The Secret Diary of Fleur Delacour, aged 16 34
by fledge
Summary: Aged sixteen and three-quarters", but the computer doesn' print it.) The events of GoF as seen through the eyes of the Beauxbatons champion, going to be more and more AU towards the end. NOW COMPLETED!
1. Default Chapter

This kind of an experimental balloon. Most people out there seem to hate Fleur, or, worse, ignore her. So I thought it might be an interesting idea to imagine things from her POV, and look behind that glamorous façade. Please tell me whether I should continue this! 

Chapter 1 – Back to school

      31st Aug. 1994 

So it's back to Beauxbatons tomorrow. Sixth year. I'm glad to get away from here! I can't stand mother any longer. Always going on about being perfect, and having to make an effort, and how good she was at school, and how everyone expects me to be nothing but the best ... If it wasn't for Gabrielle – She'll miss me; another boring year in the mansion with that terrible tutor of hers – no kids her age around, still three more years until she gets to go to school, and then I'll have left already, so she'll be lonely again...

Lonely! Don't I know what this means! How I wish I could make friends! Real friends, not stupid girls sucking up to me expecting to – I don't know what – to be more popular with the boys, perhaps, and gossiping about me, telling stories behind my back, envious of my looks. But the boys are even worse! I hate it how they all turn into drooling half-wits whenever they set eyes on me. It's not my fault, is it? And none of them has any idea of the real me, not that any of them would be interested, anyway. Oh, to meet someone who doesn't fall under that stupid veela charm! I'd really love someone to hate me for a change!

But no such luck. Charmaine and Mireille will fawn over me and gossip about me behind my back, and as for the boys – I'd better not think of them.

Silly of me, I know, how I'm getting depressive thinking about this again, I have been familiar with it for years, haven't I? And the stupid idea comes up again, as it did last year, and the year before – run away, hide, somewhere, perhaps even live as a muggle... Of course it won't work, they'd find me in no time, and, though I hate to admit it, I'm too much of a coward, too ...

Well, so it's going to be studying and working hard another year, so as not to have to think too much ... Oh yes, mother will be sooo proud of me!

***

Sept. 1st, 1994

Still a couple of hours to go until our train arrives. Charmaine and Mireille have finally settled down to chat to a couple of seventh year boys, and I have managed to ward off all the unwelcome admirers at last, thus getting some peace to write this.

When I left for Paris, there were the usual farewell ceremonies, the phoney smiles and kisses, the all too sincere exhortations of mother's ... Gabrielle was crying when she hugged me, there's nothing phoney about her ... I must at least send her as many owls as I can ... 

 I  was stunned when I saw Charmaine again after those nine weeks of holidays. Not only has she found some charm to get rid of her acne, she's also put a charm on her hair that used to be a mousy colour; now it looks exactly like mine, silvery blonde reaching down to her waist.

"Fleur!" She screamed excitedly as I stepped out of the fireplace at the Montresors' town house. She dashed towards me, hugged me very briefly, then danced away twirling around on tiptoe.

"How do I look?"

It took me some seconds to find my speech. Then I said, trying to sound indifferent, "Not bad at all. Now who do you remind me of?" I added with a forced smile.

"You, of course!" Sometimes she can be incredibly thick. "You know I always wanted to be like you, don't you?" she continued, and the look of her brown eyes (that don't go with her new hair colour at all, how typical of her!) was so puppy like that I felt my anger melting away.

Of course she's been imitating me all these past five years, so I suppose it shouldn't have been a great surprise anyway. Come to think of it, I ought to feel sorry for her; I mean how is she ever going to be a personality in her own right? And of course it never entered her dense little head to ask herself how I might feel. 

Anyway, we were just going to get Charmaine's things together ( a task that usually takes quite a long time) to pack them in the family Daimler that was supposed to take us to Gare St.Lazare, when M. Montresor came in to inform us that there was apparently some muggle strike or demonstration going on, so that the streets were closed and there was no chance to get to the station by car, magical or not.

"I'm afraid you'll have to take the Metro," he finished.

"Oh no," Charmaine pouted. "Do we really have to? Can't we Apparate or something?"

"I'm sorry, ma chere, you know you haven't got your licence yet."

"But I KNOW how to ..."

"No, and that's final. It's against the law, and you ought to know it's much too dangerous for inexperienced youngsters."

There was nothing to be done. We put a shrinking charm on our trunks so we could carry them in muggle plastic bags. Grisabel and Blanche were quite fed up with us when we shrank them to mouse size (as any self-respecting cat will be), but that couldn't be helped. We were not going to heave them all over the place in their kitty-carriers in a crowded muggle subway.

After finally changing into inconspicuous muggle clothes (it seems these trousers they call jeans are the thing if you don't want to be noticed), we grabbed our bags and left the house.

Inconspicuous indeed! Male muggles are even worse than wizards! They have no idea what veela are, so they act even more stupidly. I'd never have believed it. We had hardly closed the door behind us, when a guy in a pin-striped suit crashed into a street lamp with a tremendous bang because he had been craning his neck after us. I swear, he might have been my father or even grandfather, by the looks of him!

Charmaine giggled in that exasperating way she has sometimes. 

"Now, what do you think," she said, nudging me. "Which of us was he staring after?"

The fun of it was dawning on me. "You, of course," I replied, "just look at you!"

My sarcasm was lost on her. "I could imagine," she said smugly, "I daresay I don't look that bad."

It was even worse in the Subway. The carriage was terribly crowded, and we had to stand there packed like sardines, hugging our bags so that the shrunken cats wouldn't come to any harm. A fat muggle was standing extremely close to me. His face was red, droplets of sweat were forming on his forehead, and he smelled of onions and stale tobacco. He seemed to allow himself to be pressed closer against me than was really necessary, and from a certain reaction of his that I could feel against my thigh I concluded my impression was probably correct. I was so annoyed, - I mean, a dirty stinking muggle, how dare he? – I put an itching hex on him and was very pleased with myself when he started scratching himself immediately.

When we finally got off at the Gare St.Lazare, we were in a somewhat dishevelled state. Soon we had passed the barrier and had finally arrived at perron 3 ¾ where the flashing blue engine of the Expres Beauxbatons was already under steam.

***

It's late in the evening. Everyone's asleep, so I can still write a few remarks. There was the same routine as always, the sorting, the boring speech of Mme. Maxime, the stupid stories of what everyone did during the holidays. Of course, I'm being unfair here; I'm just jealous. It seems that everybody else gets to do the most interesting things. And only I have to stay at home all the time being bored and revising for school just to have something to do. Michelle went to Martinique and learned a few interesting things about voodoo spells, Patrice spent some exciting weeks in Quebec and keeps on talking about the old Ojibwa shaman that showed him how to enter the minds of animals, and what can I tell about? I really must try and convince mama to send me somewhere next holidays. I'll tell her it will be good for my education and make me even more perfect at school than I am already. Such arguments always work with her. Egypt might be an interesting place to go, those pyramids sound quite exciting. I'm sorry for Gabrielle though – But perhaps I should also think of myself for once.

Grisabel is purring softly on my pillow, I'm glad I have her with me, it doesn't feel so lonely. Tomorrow everyone will get the familiar haughty and conceited Fleur they are used to. Good night diary!


	2. The disastrous date

Sept. 8th, 1994

It's only a week, but it seems like ages. Weird, how fast the old routine catches again. One day exactly like the other, nothing special ever happens, which is why I haven't been back to you for all these days; there'd not have been anything to write about at all.

Tomorrow's the first Batonville weekend. As usual, every single boy from fifth year up – and probably one or two second years as well - has asked me to go to Les Trois Balais** with him. And as usual, I have declined each invitation in my well known haughty manner. I sometimes wonder if they will never learn … I mean, how often have they asked me this kind of thing, and how often have they been rejected? It's a nuisance being a quarter-veela only, Grand mere could at least transform and scare the pants off her admirers whenever she got fed up with them. (Mama would be shocked at the language I have just been using! "Fleur, you are a LADY!")**

I wonder if I should accept an invitation for once? There wouldn't be any harm in going to the brasserie with a boy, would there? I'd make it perfectly clear from the outset it was nothing more than a chat, so if he'd get any stupid ideas it would be his own fault. This way, I could go together with Charmaine and Yves and wouldn't feel left out – Why not give it a try?

Sept. 9th, 1994

11.30 a.m. – I've just told Patrice I'll go to Batonville with him. I've never seen anyone turn so red, and it took all I could do not to laugh right into this tomato coloured face. 

"Mind you, it's just this afternoon, don't you get any ideas," I told him. I wanted to be fair right from the beginning. "I'm not committing myself to anything, and I don't want you to feel under any obligation, either. Get me?"

"What? Yes, yes of course, whatever you say …"

When I went up to the dormitory, he was still standing there in the common room like in a trance. I'm not really certain that he heard a single word of what I was saying.

11.30 p.m. – I might have known. Complete disaster!

I took great care with my appearance, so as not to set Charmaine back too much. It's really unfortunate that I simply can't magick myself into looking plain and average – another annoying veela heritage, but I did my best: forced my hair back in a single massive braid, set a spell on it to make it duller, put on some muggle make-up to make me look pale and dressed in my baggiest robes.

Charmaine seemed to appreciate my efforts.

"What have you been doing to your hair?" she inquired, when she saw me come out from the bathroom. "It looks awful! AND you're so pale! Are you going to be ill or something?"

Of course she could not imagine my motives, it would never enter her head to make herself deliberately less attractive, so I just smiled at her.

"I just thought it would make a change," I told her. "And I'm feeling perfectly all right, thanks."

"Oh, have it your own way," she shrugged. "What d'you think of me?"

She pirouetted in front of me in that annoying way of hers. She really didn't look too bad. The charm on her hair had been renewed, and it really shone with an almost authentic veela-like lustre;  and she had carefully chosen her most elegant robes. Only that there is not much inside those robes to show off with.

The boys were waiting for us in the common room. If they found anything remarkable about our appearance, they didn't say it. I just noticed that both of them had their eyes on me most of the time. 

The café was already full of students when we arrived.  Everybody fell silent and  stared at us entering. It was quite embarrassing, but it was even more embarasssing when they all made a point of averting their eyes and resuming their conversation. We found a table  in the very centre of the room, so everyone could conveniently watch us without having to turn their necks too awkwardly.  The boys went to get some biere-a-beurre and presently returned. I noticed that several of the other boys were winking at Patrice and secretly giving him the thumbs-up, and it annoyed me a good deal already, especially when I saw the stupid grin with which he responded.

I don't remember much of the things we were talking about, the usual meaningless chatter about school, and how dreadful it is to have these long papers to write about Jeanne d'Arc and the role of magic in the Hundred-Years-War. Actually, I rather admire Jeanne. Considering the time she lived in it's surprising how she mustered the courage to do what she did. Of course, she could have used her powers for something more sensible than fighting in a stupid war between a couple of kings who couldn't have cared less for people like her. But then, I suppose those were different times …

Anyway, there we were, talking, or rather Yves and Patrice doing most of it, with Charmaine trying to get some words in here and there. And I noted that Yves was eyeing me all the time, hardly ever sparing a word for her, who, after all, was supposed to be his date. No, I was definitely not enjoying myself, and I might have had the sense to leave then and there. 

But you know how it is: What with all those people looking at us, I didn't have the nerve, and so you might say it's partly my fault. However, I don't believe it can have been my fault that the stupid idiots got into that stupid argument.

"You know," Patrice was saying to nobody in particular but looking at me surreptitiously, as if to make sure I was paying attention to him. "In Canada, I learned to enter the minds of animals, and my teacher said I was very good at it. He had never seen anyone learn it so quickly, and he believes that I could even manage to do that with people, too, which is about the most difficult thing ever…" 

It was embarrassingly obvious that he was bragging like this to impress me, - not that it worked, of course, at least not on me. It worked quite well with Yves, though.

"Oh, yeah," he said derisively. "They feed you those mushrooms, don't they, and you have god knows what hallucinations, and  believe everything they tell you. AND what's the use, after all?"

Patrice had slowly turned  red during these words.

"You bloody snob," he growled. "You're just jealous there's something I can do you can't. But believe me, I can do some other things you can't do in a million years ..."

And he put his arm around my shoulder. 

If I could I'd have transformed instantly, I was so mad! I jumped up from my seat, giving his arm a violent tug that almost caused him lose his balance.

"How dare you!" I screamed at him, and I believe I turned absolutely purple with rage, in spite of my pale make-up. "And you, -" I turned to Yves who, was gaping at me, "provoking him like that – oh sod you all, you bloody stupid idiots!"

I felt my voice break, and stormed out of the cafe; the last thing I wanted was for anybody to see the tears in my eyes.

Of course, when Charmaine came back, she was fed up:

"I knew you'd ruin my date, how could I ever have been so stupid as to go out with you? No boy will ever be safe whenever you're around! I bet you've been hexing them, haven't you? Just leave me alone," she sobbed,when I wanted to point out the unfairness of her accusation. "You're a veela, you're doing this sort of thing for sports, I guess, How can you ever understand?"

Great. Now I've succeeded to make the only person here that used to be something like a friend hate me. Good job, considering it's just been the first week of the school year! 


	3. Letters and Messages

Chapter three: Letters and messages

Sept. 12th, 1994

Nothing much is happening. Patrice has tried to talk to me once or twice, but I keep ignoring him. Of course, he is best friends again with Yves, too. Sometimes I can see them talking quietly, giving me rather dirty looks when they think I'm not watching. What do I care? Or, rather, what dare I care? I'm pretty sure all the boys in the whole stupid school share the same opinion about me: Oh, yeah, man, good to look at (I just don't want to imagine what other thoughts they may get, and what they might picture themselves doing with me.) but hardly human, really. Everybody knows what veela are like, right? Cruel, heartless creatures whose only joy is torturing poor innocent boys by making them fall desperately in love with them.LOVE! How I hate this word! No, I don't hate it, really, what I hate is the perverse meaning people seem to give it. Love must be more than just the effect of an instinct, a function of glands triggered by an optical stimulus. I get so sick when I think what the only aim of this so-called love of theirs is! Do they want to know how I feel, are they interested in what kind of music I like, what books I read, what my dreams and fears are? No, there's only one thing on their minds...

If that's love, then give me hate any time! 

At least, Charmaine is speaking to me again, after I promised solemnly, never to go out with her and a boy. I had no problem at all promising that, I really don't feel like doing anything of the kind ever again.

"I forgive you," she said magnanimously, and it took al my self-restraint to keep calm. As if there was anything I'd done that she could forgive me! But I kept quiet. "Thank you, Charmaine," I replied meekly; I almost added that I'd never do it again, but there was still some pride left in me, and so I stopped myself, sighed resignedly, and went over to hug her. Actually, I suspect that at least part of the reason for her to come round so soon is that she wants my help with her homework again, particularly in Charms, where, to be honest, she can use any help she can get.

I've sent an owl to Gabrielle, telling her about the incident with Patrice and Yves. I've exaggerated things a bit, because I hope it will amuse her and divert her from her boring days.

Sept. 18th, 1994

I should have known it was not a good idea to tell Gabrielle about those two stupid boys. I might have guessed Mama would get hold of the letter. And she didn't like it a bit, of course!Luckily, she hates public sensations that show any of us in a negative light, so she didn't send me a howler, as it would have embarrassed her more than me, but she did send me letter. I've decided to keep it if ever I should forget what kind of a person my mother is.

"Are you completely out of your mind? Have I taught you nothing at all? You know how important it is to make friends with the right people, and this Patrice of yours does not only seem to be a promising young wizard, he also is a Dulac, from one of the most ancient and important wizarding families in France. And I do not think I have to remind you how useful such connections can be. So whatever absolutely idiotic motives may have caused you to behave in this abysmally stupid way, I demand that you apologize and make use of the privilege of your heritage, although I am beginning to doubt if you even deserve it.

Also, I forbid you put absurd ideas into your sister's head, and so I will tell you quite frankly that I have decided to check on all the letters you write to her. It seems that you are developing a rebellious attitude that I am not going to accept, therefore, I will also be in close contact with Madame Maxime, who has promised to keep me informed about the progress of your schoolwork. You know that your family expects you to do nothing but your best, and I will not be satisfied with anything less.

If anything like this incident occurs again, I will seriously reconsider your future school carrier.

Your affectionate mother,

Isabeau Delacour

Affectionate, what a joke! Yes, Mama, you HAVE taught me something, you've taught me not to want to be like you! And he is not MY Patrice, and he'll never be if I can help it! –And I'll definitely not apologize! 

I'll have to find a way to communicate with Gabrielle, though, without mother knowing. I couldn't stand not being able to tell her my real thoughts and feelings. After all, she's the only person I can reall confide in.

Sept. 19th, 1994

After dinner, Mme. Maxime made an announcement. The Triwizard Tournament is going to be held again, after a pause of a couple of centuries or so. I remember reading about it in Histoire de Beauxbatons. It used to be held every five years since the thirteenth century, among the leading wizarding schools of Europe. (Besides us, there is one in Britain and one somewhere in Eastern Europe, Bulgaria, if I remember correctly.) Apparently, the tasks were quite dangerous, and casualties were quite frequent, so that in the time of the eighteenth century, when it seems that a life began to count more than it used to, they stopped the competition. Mme. Maxime was going on about what a most excellent way it was of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities, but I believe all she is really interested in is us winning. She stressed, of course, that everything would be quite safe, and that some Committee or other had taken all possible precautions, and that due to the developments in modern wizardry there would be practically no mortal danger. I didn't quite like the "practically", though.

There is going to be a competition for sixth students who wish to take part in the Tournament, in order to decide who is going to that school in Scotland, where it is taking place. The only condition is you have to be at least seventeen by October 31st. Just my luck that that's exactly my birthday, and knowing mother, she'll of course expect me to take part, - and win!

Charmaine has already declared that she thinks I'm raving mad to enter, and I did not bother to try to explain why I do. It's easy for her, as she's a couple of months younger than me.

Well, as there's no way mother will not hear about all this, anyway, it might be wise to be a dutiful daughter and write a letter to her telling her right away, and promising to do my very best, of course. And it really shouldn't be too difficult to get shortlisted to go to Scotland, at least.

Actually, it may be quite interesting to get to some new place, after all. I only hope I can take Grisabel with me.

Sept 22nd, 1994

Just got mother's letter. She can be the sweetest person in the world, as long as everybody does what she wants. Apparently, she thinks her telling me off has worked, and now she's giving me the carrot treatment after the stick. Said how brave I was to try out for the Tournament, just being so very young, and that she'd have understood if I had not – I don't even want to think what she'd have had to say to me if I really had not put my name down on that list! And she knows I'm going to win, of course, and wishes me all the best. And she signed "Your loving mother" this time, the hypocrite!

I have borrowed a book about the Tournament from the library, and I'm going to study it today, while Charmaine is in Batonville again. Perhaps I can get an idea of what to expect, - if I ever make it that far, that is.

Xxxxx

Thanks for reviewing. Yes, she MAY be OOC here, and if it was not for the scene after the second task, and the way she says goodbye to Harry at the end, I'd never have got the idea to present her in this way. After all, it must be quite hard to have everybody react on you the way people do about Fleur, so perhaps appearing conceited and cold is a way of self-defence.

If there's anybody out there who'd be willing to help me with some French expressions, please mail me, it would be great. And has anyone any idea what the Maisons de Beauxbatons might be called, or what their characteristics might be?


	4. The first competition

The First Competition

Sept. 23rd, 1994

Reading about the history of the Tournament has not done much to increase my confidence. To be sure, some ideas seem rather absurd for us today. For example, they had three female champions back in 1665;so they wanted to be very original and have them ride a unicorn through a wall of fire, and were nonplussed when none of the three girls could even get near the beast. Not that it would happen to me, but definitely a stupid idea, - what would they have done if one of them had been able to do it? She wouldn't have won for any magical prowess of hers, would she? Apparently they substituted plain white horses for the unicorns, and hushed everything up as best as they could. 

However, there were also some pretty frightful tasks – and accidents - during the centuries. Who in their right minds would set creating a bottomless hole as a task for a competition? Today we all know, of course, that they are there in outer space, but we also know that they are terribly dangerous, and can get out of control quite easily. Obviously, in 1435, they did not know about this, and so it became a task for the Tournament. The Durmstrang champion created the most impressive hole, but unfortunately, it swallowed him up, and he was never seen again. So, even if his school was proud to win the Cup, I doubt his friends and family were very happy about it. And scores of the most accomplished wizards of their time had to work awfully hard to get rid of that hole again. Other tasks involved manticores, all kinds of dragons, and even a basilisk in 1715 (the Cup went to the basilisk, as all three champions were killed by it). This was the reason why they abolished the Tournament. They tried, apparently, to revive the tradition, but none of these attempts was very successful. After, in 1792, all three heads of the participating schools had been injured (and they were just watching!), no further attempts were made. Typical, isn't it – as soon as their own precious lives were in danger they stopped it for good!

Mme. Maxime has announced that there will be twelve students accompanying her to Hogwarts, and as there are about fifty applications, the shortlist competitions are going to start next week. There will be three tests to take, and those who perform best will be on the delegation.

Sept. 28th, 1994

The first test has been announced, and it doesn't sound too difficult, really, nor dangerous. Each candidate got a piece of parchment with a clue that we are to work out and then act on it the day after tomorrow. Mme. Maxime exhorted everyone not to help each other as she would find out and the people concerned would be taken off the list immediately. I don't think she needed to stress that, everybody is eager to be chosen, so there's no danger anyone could be tempted to increase a rival's chances, anyway.

The clue is this: 

"There is a patient in the infirmary, with these symptoms: Pale, waxen skin, cold and hard to the touch, shallow breathing, slow and irregular heartbeat, unable to move any limbs, or to speak, wide, staring, unblinking eyes, no reaction to any external stimulus. Cause of condition unknown, but apparently not a spell. Design a remedy, and prepare it, ready for use. Your remedy will be tested, and points awarded accordingly.Deadline for handing in the remedy: Sept. 30th, noon."

These symptoms sound very much like the effects of Petrificus – but it says it's no spell. Is there a potion or something that causes similar things? And I wonder, - have they made up the whole thing, or is there really such a patient? It would help a lot if I could actually see these symptoms myself. Well, no harm in checking first thing tomorrow.

Sept. 29th, 1994

9 o'clock - Went to the infirmary before breakfast. They really have a case with these symptoms there!

I was right, after all, the symptoms are almost exactly like those of the Petrificus curse, but of course they haven't made it that simple! So I skipped breakfast altogether and went straight to the library to grab the Potions Lexicon before the rest of the crowd would make a dash for it. Indeed, there is a potion that produces the same effects as the curse, with the important difference, however, that the effects are lasting, and can only be removed by a counter-potion. 

So far, so good, but the ingredients! Salamander scales, bloodwort, mandrake powder are all very well, every student has them in their regular supplies, but – Rokh's feathers? Where am I supposed to get those? I've only ever heard of this bird in the Tales of Sinbad, which we read in Histoire de Magique, and I'd never have thought it would come up useful some time. So, does this mean there are Rokhs here in the mountains? There have to, or it would make no sense setting this task, would it?

11 o'clock – Took the Lexicon back and was almost lynched by the mob who'd been looking for it. I daresay it improved my image as a mean bitch no end. In the uproar, I managed to sneak out with "Animaux phantastiques" without anybody noticing. Seems I'm a step ahead of the others. 

Not that it does me much good. The Rokh, the book says, lives high up in the mountains and builds its nest on steep rocky peaks near the snow line. A full-grown Rokh can be as big as a horse, and its wings can span eight metres. It usually eats carrion, but doesn't say no to any fresh meat it can get easily. That means, for example, any Beauxbatons student foolish enough to go near it. Apparently, it drops large rocks on you from high up. So much for "not dangerous"! Luckily, due to its size, it is not very fast, nor clever, and can be outwitted rather easily, at least this is what the book says.

11.30 – Margaux Bellefontaine, a seventh year girl to whom I have spoken once or twice these years, has tracked me down, and demanded I give her the book this instant. Clever of her, to think of that, I believe all the others are still turning the library upside down for it. I thanked her for taking it off my hands, and handed it to her, not without the friendly advice not to let herself get caught with it unless she wanted to get tarred and feathered. She looked at me in a way that suggested she didn't quite appreciate my concern for her well-being.

11 pm. – I'm absolutely knackered, but simply have to tell this before going to bed. The tension among the candidates at lunch was tangible. Sour looks darted from one to the others, and there was hardly even the normal small talk. And everybody disappeared immediately afterwards. 

Thankfully, I'm the only sixth year who has applied for the Tournament, so I could tell Charmaine what I'd found out so far, but as I'd expected she was not really any help. About the only thing she said was that I was totally off my rocker, and that it would serve me right if that big ugly bird had me for breakfast, - but she did say that in several interesting ways. 

"I don't understand it!" she said after her third or fourth variation concerning my sanity, "You'd think they'd run into a heap of problems with the parents, if students get harmed or even killed only because of a stupid tournament that doesn't even take place here!"

I still don't know how or why, but at this remark something clicked into place in my head.

"Thank you;" I jumped up and ran over to hug her. "That's it, of course! You've helped me a lot, thanks once again!"

And when she looked at me with that incredibly blank expression of hers, - though I can't really blame here this time, to be just, - I told her, "I'm sorry I can't tell you now, I must run!"

I dashed out of the dormitory and over to the broom sheds (What a piece of luck broom flying is compulsory here, mother would never have let me choose it.), got out my broom and started up into the air. The idea that Charmaine had given me, was, of course, that the staff of the school would have arranged precautions to protect the contestants, and if I was lucky, I'd notice the preparations for these precautions and so would get a hint where to look for the Rokh, or rather  its feathers, as I wasn't really too keen on getting eye to eye with a bird as big as a horse, if I could help it.

Soon I was circling high above the chateau,keeping a close watch of the mountain range. And indeed, suddenly I saw something glitter near the top of one of the high peaks, a regular glitter in long and short intervals, obviously a sign. I grabbed my broom in a firm grip and zoomed off towards the peak

It took me about twenty minutes to get near the peak, with the signal guiding me conveniently. When I could already make out details of the rocky precipices, I slowed down to think. If I was right, and there really was a Rokh anywhere near, it would be rather unwise to be as conspicuous as I was. After a short moment, I remembered just the spell I needed.

"Cumulus!" I said quietly, and at once was enveloped in a dense white cloud that, at least to a spectator from a distance, would look quite normal. Of course, my own sight was also reduced, but I had to be careful and couldn't fly so fast anyway. The blinking light still kept guiding me along.

Soon I was only a few metres from the cliffs that were almost vertical in this part of the mountain, and at last I could make out the source of the light. On a narrow ledge in the sheer rock face, a large silver mirror had been mounted that kept turning regularly, reflecting the light of a white glowing stone beneath it. Next to it, a hooded figure, tightly wrapped in a grey cloak was squatting against the rocks. When he looked up, I recognised Professor Sangfroid, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. I couldn't tell whether he had seen me, at any rate, he gave no sign that he might have, though he did look in my direction once or twice.

I was satisfied with myself, obviously I had guessed correctly.So I started to ascend along the rock face, keeping a close lookout. Slowly the cold of the high altitude, together with the biting wind was creeping through my robes, and my fingers had turned to ice. 

Even though I was fully alert, the horibble screech nearly made me fall off my broom. Foolishly I had closely observed the rocky surface in front of me and more or less neglected  to watch out for any dangers behind me. And of course that's exactly where the monstrous bird appeared. All I could see in the split second before I pulled into a steep dive was a whirl of brown and grey feathers and a very distinct glimpse of enormous glinting talons.

After plummeting for some fifty metres, I steadied my broom to catch my breath again. Cursing myself for my carelessness, I renewed the Cumulus charm, which obviously had worn thin during the last minutes, and slowly ascended again. The Rokh was nowhere to be seen, and I wasn't at all unhappy about it. Soon I reached my former height again, and a few minutes later was level with the very top of the mountain. Still wrapped in my cloud, I landed  noiselessly and looked around. And indeed,only a couple of metres away, behind what looked like a low stone wall, I could hear an unmelodious screeching and squawking. Carefully, my wand at the ready, I crept forward. And when I finally peered over the wall, there it was, I was looking directly into the montrous bird's nest.

Young birds are rarely a pretty sight, and the baby Rokh was no exception. Big as a cat, almost naked, with just a few stubbly quills sticking out of ist skin giving it the appearance of an oversized hedgehog with a huge curved beak, it was squatting in the nest looking in my direction with ist enormous beady eyes.

But I had not come to admire a cute baby bird, anyway, I was a lot more interested to find that the bird was sitting on a thick layer of brown and grey fearthers, obviously mama's and papa's.

"Accio!" I pointed my wand at the nest.

I have no idea what went wrong, perhaps I didn't speak loudly enough, or perhaps I had pointed my wand at  the wrong angle, the fact is, instead of  a feather sailing graciously into my hand, there was a frightened screech, and the ugly fledgeling was sailingat me full speed, knocking me right off my feet.

"Merde!" I muttered, grabbing the bird in both my hands, and at the same time putting a silencing charm on the excited creature, which wasn't so easy as I had dropped my wand in my first shock.

Now I had to be really fast. The noise was sure to have alarmed the big birds, and it would only be a mater of very few minutes until they'd appear. There was absolutely no time to lose. 

"Shut up!" I hissed at the small monster as I dumped it unceremoniously back into the nest. Then I stooped, grabbed a handful of feathers and shoved them in my pocket, jumped over to where I had dropped my broom.

Not a minute too soon! The same moment that I kicked off the ground there was the swoosh of the gigantic wings in the air and the deafening screech was almost splitting my ears. I felt a searing pain in my shoulder as I flattened myself along the brrom handle and sped away.

Back at the castle,  all I wanted to do was to collapse on my bed. I staggered into the dormitory, but unfortunately Charmaine was there, and there was no way I was going to get any rest soon.

"You look horrible!" she exclaimed and rushed towards me. "For Merlin's sake, you're hurt!" she added when she noted the long gash on my shoulder. "What happened?"

I really didn't feel like talking at all, but I knew she wouldn't leave me alone beore she had heard everything.

"All right," I told her, "but lend me a hand with this injury, will you?"

While she was helping me to take off my rtobes and to put some healing ointment on the nasty scratch the Rokh's talons had given me, I told her the whole story.

"A narrow escape!" she said after I had finished. "Sangfroid did take his time to show up, didn't he? If that's what he was there for at all."

"I don't know, and I don't give a damn," I sighed wesrily. "It's over, and it's worked out, that's it, as far as I am concerned. Now, if you don't mind, I really have to get some sleep."

"But they'll miss you at dinner."

"I doubt it, they'll all be wrapped up in their own problems; anyway, if someome does ask, just tell them some story, you're good at inventing stories, aren't you? Just don't tell them what I've really done."

Yes, it's been quite a day, and I still have to mix the potion first thing tomorrow morning.

Sept. 30th, 1994

It turns out that most of the contestants were thinking on similar lines as me, and quite a few have managed to get those stupid feathers. Unfortunately, not all of them have been as lucky, and at least four have ended up in the infirmary with the souvenirs from their encounter with the Rokh. One of them is Yves, which has certainly not improved Charmaine's mood; she went into hysterics this morning, when the news spread, and rushed to see him immediately. At least, this time, there is no way she could possibly blame me for it.

When I arrived in the potions classroom, I noticed the field of competition had already considerably narrowed, although it was still pretty crowded. People were shooting dirty looks at each other, jealously guarding their ingredients, and furiously stirring their cauldrons. Luckily, the actual brewing of the potion itself  only takes about an hour, so we were finished soon, and trooped up to the infirmary to hand in our accomplishments for testing.

I had wondered, shortly, how they'd be testing some thirty potions on one patient, but it soon became clear that Professor Bonsecours, the potions teacher, would only analyse each concoction to see whether it was really effective. The "patient" had just been a fake. I wish they'd used real patients, and a fake Rokh instead!

Anyway, after lunch, the intermediate results of the competition were announced. It seems that although I never noticed, they were indeed keeping a close watch on us, because they didn't only award points for the correct potion itself but also for the ways that were employed to get at the feathers. "Mlle. Delacours, 100 points for being first to arrive at the right place, plus ten points for a clever use of a Cumulus charm, however, minus 25 points for clumsy wand work, and resulting injury..." 

Well, no matter, I'm in fourth place with my 85 points, which isn't so bad, considering I'm the only sixth year. Mama will love to hear it, and there's no harm in being in her good books again. You never know when you'll need it. And I'll send zapped up account of my encounter with the Rokh; she'll be thrilled, and so proud of her big sister!

A/N: Two questions to the attentive reader:

a) Why could those girls not go near the unicorns in the Tournament in 1665?

b) In which book does someone have to create a bottomless hole at a competition, and is then swallowed up by it?

Enjoy, and give me feedback!


	5. Darkness

Oct. 1st, 1994

Things are calming down a bit. There are eight competitors left in Maison Sylphide, me being one of them, and the youngest, of course. Considering that, I suppose I should be proud of myself, as only Margaux Bellefontaine's 90 points are better than my own score. Of course, the other seven are not talking to me, nor to each other, for that matter, and there are at least two dating couples among them! It scares me how a stupid competition can affect people. 

The rest, however, have turned back to a more or less normal behaviour, and some, who had not been so sure about taking part at first, are now quite relieved, it seems. Some have even started to look at me with something like respect. Yves is out of the competition, and still in the infirmary. I have been able to convince Charmaine that this is quite a good thing, as there are surely to be more dangerous tests in store. First, she was disappointed, as she would have liked to date a champion, but now she's realised that a dead champion wouldn't do her any good. I must mention to her credit that she seemed a bit worried about me, but not for long. Patrice is still in, but with only 70 points, so unless he gets really lucky, there's not much of a chance for him. So much for those "old families"! Mme. Maxime has announced that we will be handed the instructions for the next test the day after tomorrow. Of course, normal lessons are just going on all the same, with homework and all the other assignments.

Oct 3rd, 1994

Like all the others, I have been handed my instructions for the second test, but it's still rather mysterious: "Tomorrow, 9 o'clock, go to the faun's statue in the park. Pick up the object you find on the plinth. Cope with the events that follow. Apart from your wand, you may take three objects of your choice with you."

I wonder whether all the candidates have got the same instructions. I don't think so: If there is only one "object" near that statue, only one person can go on with the whole thing, which wouldn't make much sense. (To say nothing of the murderous fight that would take place.) So there will be one such "object" for each candidate. "Cope with the events that follow." Doesn't sound too reassuring, it might mean just about anything; but there's nothing I can do about it. The only thing is, their safety measures are quite thorough, so nothing can go REALLY wrong. Whatever it is, I'm quite likely to survive.

"Three objects of your choice" – if there was just the tiniest hint as to those "events"! But as it is ... This reminds me of that game we heard about in Muggle studies – when playing it, Muggles pretend they are going to be sent to a lonely island and must decide what they want to take along. I remember we found it quite funny, because we couldn't imagine what good, for example, matches would be as we completely forgot that Muggles need them for making a fire. Well, which things can be done more easily without magic? Food and drink? I don't assume I'll be so long as to need any food, but something to drink may be useful. What else? What makes it most complicated for one to do things? Darkness! I don't quite see where darkness should come in in the middle of the park, at 9 in the morning, but then, this is about magic, isn't it, so you never know. And the Lumos spell keeps a wand blocked, you can't do anything else with it while the spell is active. So I'll take an Eternitas torch . I can take one more thing. What? Some kind of weapon, perhaps? But I can fight pretty much any danger using my wand, and I don't want to even imagine one that I cannot. And I'm sure I'd look perfectly ridiculous with a great big sword. The Muggles have films with characters like that, "Warrior Princess", or something, - what a laugh we had when Prof. Rochefoucault showed them to us! No, definitely no weapons for me! Wait – what do I do when I feel scared? Yes, that's it! Grisabel! She's not really an "object", of course, and would object strongly to the term, but I'm sure I can argue it out if they should try to stop me taking her along. She's sitting beside me right now, watching me with those large green eyes; sometimes I do get the impression that she can understand perfectly well what I'm saying, or even thinking.

There's still a Potions essay that I'm supposed to do, but I'll put it off till after the competition. It really would be a waste if I wrote it and then got myself killed in those "events". Good night, diary.

Oct. 4th, 1994

What a day! I'm absolutely dead, so I'll write tomorrow

Oct. 5th, 1994

Had a rather disturbed night, even though I was perfectly exhausted, and could only get some hours of sleep long after midnight. Now it's 9 o'clock, I've had some breakfast and can finally settle down to record yesterday's events. I have, with some effort, shooed Charmaine out of the dormitory (I'm quite proud of myself, I have not told her anything yet), and have put a locking charm on the door, so there won't be any disruption. 

Well, at 8.45 I got my backpack, put a self-refilling bottle of an energizer potion and my Eternitas torch in, and finally made Grisabel jump in, too. Then I shouldered my bag and went on my way. When I entered the garden I saw my competitors walk in the direction of various statues. So I had been right, we would each get a different "object" to deal with. I noticed that some had chosen pretty strange things to take along, I could see lances, swords and even some chain mail. Apparently the experience with the Rokh had left a lasting impression. Some doubts suddenly crept into my mind whether I had really chosen wisely, but I told myself not to be silly, and anyway, it was too late to go back and take something else. 

The mysterious object at the statue looked quite unspectacular and perfectly harmless: a small silver coin. I looked around, but could not see anything strange at all. Apparently there was nobody watching me, but I was sure they were having everything under control. 

As soon as I took the coin, I knew: a portkey! The familiar sensation was unmistakable, as I felt myself hurled through space, and I automatically closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, I wondered for a second, if I had turned blind, everything was totally black, and I felt a draught of cold moist air. For a moment, I almost panicked. If there's anything I'm really absolutely terrified of, it's darkness, and this darkness couldn't possibly have been any darker. Pulling myself together with an effort, but still with shaking hands, I got my torch out of my bag and said the spell to light it, silently congratulating myself on my cleverness.

I was in a cave, or rather tunnel, with walls of dark granite rock disappearing to each side in the darkness. The tunnel was some two metres wide and about the same height.

"Great!" I said to Grisabel, who had jumped out of my bag and was sitting in front of my feet on the gravely ground, looking at me unblinking. She did not display any symptoms of fear, and I took this to be an encouraging sign. "So probably the task is to find your way out of here, - and, of course, to 'deal with the events that follow' whatever they will be. Now, which way to turn?"

As if she had understood, she got to her feet, stretched slowly, yawned, and started to walk slowly down the tunnel, her tail straight up in the air, the way she always does when she is interested in something. So I picked up my bag, and followed her.

I can't say how long I had been walking along that tunnel. It seemed to go in a more or less straight line and kept the same level. It's weird how one can lose any sense of time and direction in a place like this with only a couple of metres to see in any direction. 

Abruptly, the walls of the tunnel disappeared, and the light of my torch just faded out into the distance. I had reached an enormous dome, and the ground in front of me seemed to descend . And ahead, there seemed to be the shadow of a light. 

At first, I just believed this was the entrance to the cave, and vaguely wondered why the whole thing had been so easy; but then I realised this light with its reddish glow couldn't possibly be daylight. A look at Grisabel, however, reassured me; She was obviously not frightened, only interested and alert. My wand ready, I slowly approached the light.

Now a low rumbling noise began, distant at first, but getting louder and louder. At the same time, the reddish light seemed to get larger and brighter, much faster than I was moving towards it. But still my cat remained calm, her tail upright, and her fur smooth. Whatever it was, it couldn't be a danger, so I moved on.

Suddenly, the noise seemed to explode in my ears, and an enormous animal appeared in the red glow. The massive bulk of a shaggy black and brown bull with long curved horns seemed to rush directly at me with whirling hooves. 

I believe I screamed, and I flattened myself to the ground, expecting to be crushed by those thundering hooves. But Grisabel, cool as ever, just looked at me and gave me an encouraging push with her soft nose, as if to tell me there was nothing to be afraid of.

And indeed, the idea suddenly occurred to me that I had seen this bull before: In Histoire de Magique we had seen the images from the caves of Lascaux that were used for magical purposes thousands of years ago, and this bull was one of those animals that we had seen there. I don't really know how to say this, it must have been the ghost of an animal, if there is such a thing.

Anyway, I felt quite reassured now, and got to my feet again. And as soon as I did, the snorting bull just faded away, and there was darkness again, only lit by my torch, which I had dropped in my first shock. 

When my heartbeat had returned to normal, I moved on.

"They are trying to frighten you with illusions," I told myself. "And it only works on humans, as Grisabel is not affected by it at all. What a clever idea to take her along."

However, I was still in the middle of a cold damp cave, to say nothing of the darkness. Again, I watched Grisabel to get an idea what to do, and again, she stuck her tail into the air and started walking on; I followed without hesitation.

It didn't take too long until I heard the sound of water in front of me, and after a few steps, my torch shone on the rippling waves of a swift stream that crossed the tunnel and effectively blocked my progress. A look at Grisabel showed me that this was real water, not an illusion. 

After some deliberation I conjured a tiny boat, made Grisabel get into my bag again, and soon the swift current was carrying us along. Unfortunately, only a short time later, an increasing roar told me that there was probably a cataract or waterfall in front. I started looking for a place to land and get away from the river that was running faster and faster, but I could only see sheer walls to both sides. With an effort, I finally managed to levitate the boat off the surface and to have it hover about half a metre above the now positively raging waves. 

Suddenly the boat, which had been trained on the surface of the river, took a steep plunge in a spray of cold walter. Grisabel let out a terrified shriek, and I believe I screamed, too, but after a couple of seconds the boat steadied itself again above a seething whirlpool foaming white in the dim light of my torch. Looking up, I saw that we had indeed plunged down along a waterfall the top of which disappeared in the darkness.

When the current had subsided again, I lowered the boat on to the water again. Now that didn't have to keep up the hover charm any longer, I put a drying spell on my robes and on Grisabel, as the spray from the waterfall had drenched us completely. Then I leaned back and tried to relax a bit, as I was quite exhausted from keping up that hovering charm for such a long time. Grisabel curled comfortably up in my arms, purring softly, and I close my eyes...

I must have dropped off for some time, because I was suddenly woken by Grisabel pushing her nose against my face urgently. My boat had been washed ashore on a gravel bank, it was perfectly silent and it was still absolutely dark, except for my torch. Looking around I noticed that the river had widened to a lake, and there was no noticable current any longer.

"What do we do now?" I asked Grisabel, and as if she had understood, she jumped out of the boat, arched her back, looked at me and started off, away from the shore, stopping after a few steps, and looking back at me, clearly telling me to follow her.

"Well, if you say so," I muttered, grabbed my bag and followed her. I was starting to wonder how long I had already been in that stupid cave, as I had lost all my feeling of time; and I started to worry how long my torch was going to last, - it was called Eternitas, to be sure, but this didn't mean it would burn forever. With an effort, I shoved that thought into the back of my consciousness, and went on.

Presently, I thought there was some light in the distance, and indeed, within a few more steps, there was definitely a yellowish glow, which soon grew so bright that I could put out my torch.

Of course, I felt greatly relieved at first, but asI went nearer, it dawned on me that this was not the glow of daylight but obviously another obstacle on my way.

And so it was: A wall of dancing yellow and orange flames blocked my progress, and again Grisabel's behaviour showed me that this was no illusion. She seemed to know what was expected of her, and without any further ado jumped into my bag again, while I was considering what to do. 

"Pluvius!" I tried the most obvious spell, but although a satisfying shower of rain developed, the flames were still there and didn't even change.

Cursing under my breath, I thought for a moment, then tried again: 

"Ventosum!" the gush of wind did reduce the flames for a second or two, but then they were back again, too fast for me to run through without being fried.

This really was a tricky one. Finally, I got an idea.

"You won't like this," I apologised to Grisabel, "but I do hope this one will get us through."

I stepped up as near to the flames as I could, and shouted:

"Vestimentum Glaciale!"

Immediately, we were covered in a thick layer of ice, a shock of coldness that took my breath away. Clad in this armour, I could finally step though the barrier, and broke down at the other side, shivering, and just managing the Finite Incantatem though chattering teeth.

Cuddling Grisabel, who was looking at me indignantly, and putting a warming charm on us, I remained there sitting on the ground and slowly recovered from the exertion. And suddenly I thought I could recognise a pattern in these obstacles: There was fire and water, obviously, ...

"And that bull stands for earth," I said to myself, "So there's still air ... wonder what they can do about this one?"

There was only one way to find out, and so after sevral minutes, I went on my way again.

I didn't have to wait long. Without the slightes warning, a sudden gust of wind knocked me off my feet and propelled me along. Luckily, Grisabel was still sitting in my bag, otherwise I am sure I would have lost her. At the same time, the darkness vanished and there was broad daylight all around. And with a horrible shock I realised I was tumbling head over heels through midair, surrounded by white mist so I could not tell how high up I was.

After what felt like an endless time of paralysed shock, I managed to point my wand at myself and shout, the sound immediately torn from my lips by the storm:

"Pennae Avis!"

It was a strange feeling when my arms suddenly transformed into huge white wings, but they strectched by themselves, and slowed my fall immediately. It took me some time, of course to find out how to use them but I did figure it out after a minute or two. 

In the meantime. The mist had disappeared, and I found myself flying a few hundred metres above the ground. It was apparently late afternoon, as the sun was already setting, and there, in the west, I could also recognise the spires and turrets of Chateau Beauxbatons. Beating my wings with all that still remainedof my strength, I flew towards it, and finally collapsed, totally exhausted on the top battlement.

Charmaine, who had been looking in her crystal ball and seen me land, came for me and helped me down to the dormitory, and I must say that much for her, she didn't pester me with questions when she realised just how absolutely finished I was. She just put me to bed and I fell asleep almost at once, not however, without making sure that Grisabel was there on my pillow, purring me to sleep.

**

What a long story! Well, I suppose I'll have to tell Charmaine everything, too, now. And they'll probably announce the results of this crazy competition tomorrow.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews. I'm glad at least one of you knows Eva Ibbotson's funny little book, Ireally recommend it. However, I'm really disappointed nobody figured out the thing about the unicorns. The thing is, according to some medieval bestiaries, that unicorns are symbols of purity and innocence, and so only virgins can touch or even approach them. (Of course, this is iontended to contribute to Fleur's description.)

Well folks, I hope you haveenjoyed this chapter, and will be busily reviewing soon. See you.


	6. Respite

Chapter 6 – Respite 

Oct. 5th, 1994

It's late at night, but although I'm rather tired I have to write this down. I'm so excited! I'm going to Britain! I'd never have believed it! 

At dinner, I noticed a couple of empty seats at all the house tables. (I had skipped lunch, and Charmaine had very sweetly brought me a couple of things up to the dormitory.) When I asked Charmaine about this, she told me that several of the competitors seemed to have been hurt in the last task, and apparently were still in the infirmary. Margaux Bellefontaine, however, had obviously passed through the trial unscathed and was glaring at me from the other side of the table.

After we had finished our meal and the empty dishes had disappeared, Maxime rose from her seat, and the hall went quiet.

"The jury has worked out the results of the last competition. Let me say beforehand that there is no need to have a third round, as only eleven competitors have been able to complete this task; unfortunately, eighteen have not been able to find their way out in a reasonable time and had to be retrieved. And I must say that I feel a bit disappointed, I would have expected students of mine to be more resourceful. The eleven candidates who did manage, will of course all travel to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, - " 

I think I stopped breathing for a moment, and then Charmaine threw her arms around me and screamed, "Oh my God! You're going!"

Similar scenes were going on at the other tables, people were jumping up, hugging each other, banging on tables or starting to sob.

Maxime watched the turmoil for a while, then she clapped her hands three times, and the noise slowly died down.

"As I was saying," she continued, "you will be going to Hogwarts, where an impartial magical judge will then select the Beauxbatons champion. I am sure that you will all be aware of the great honour this means, and trust you will do everything you can to live up to the expectations that are set on you. Naturally, although all the candidates will stay in Hogwarts during the length of the Tournament, everyone will have to attend regular lessons, although the champion will be exempt from final exams"

It turned out that they had not bothered awarding points, as there were only eleven of us, anyway, and the magical judge would apparently not be interested in them either. There are three candidates from Sylphide: Margaux, of course, Sylvain Bonsecours, and me. It's funny, I've never looked at Sylvain as somebody special, apparently he must have more qualities than meet the eye.

So I'm going to Hogwarts! I still cannot quite believe it. If I wake up tomorrow and it's still true, I'll send maman an owl. She'll not be beside herself with joy, she is never "beside herself" with anything, it's so _unbecoming to show feelings, but she'll be pleased with me, and that's something. _

Oct. 6th, 1994

What a relief! People are talking to each other again! Now that the stress of the competition is over and there is nothing anyone can do at the moment to increase their chances of being selected for champion, the tension among the students has died down. People are talking about their experiences, and so I have heard about some more details. 

The teachers must have used some special charm, because each of us was alone during the competition, although apparently we were all in the same cave, and had to deal with the same obstacles. 

Very few realised that that bull was only an illusion, and some of those who had been carrying weapons even managed to hurt themselves trying to fight it. It seems that as long as you didn't realise it was not real, it wouldn't disappear, and so several candidates could not even get past this first difficulty.

One or two who had been wearing chain mail almost got drowned in the river and had to be fished out, while another, after successfully dealing with the waterfall, fell asleep on the shore and had to be woken up when time had run out.

Most of the people who didn't finish the competition, however, could not figure out how to get through the wall of fire, and there were also rather a lot of serious burns.

And of course, a lot of accidents also occurred during the last part, quite some candidates could not stop their fall in time. Naturally, there was a cushioning spell installed below the cliffs, but nevertheless, several bruises and dislocations were the result.

Most amazing of all, something like – well, not exactly friendship, but respect or acceptance seems to be developing between Margaux and me. This evening at dinner, Margaux, who usually sits somewhere at the opposite side of the table and had hardly ever talked to me at all, except when demanding things from me in an unfriendly tone, came up to me while I was chatting away to Charmaine.

"Excuse me," she said, sounding the friendliest I had ever heard her. "Would you mind terribly if I sat down here?" She indicated the seat at my side.

I was so surprised it took me second or two to answer.

"Well, yes, I suppose so – I mean, no, - oh, just sit." I was annoyed with myself for babbling like an idiot, but this was really the last thing I had expected. She ran her fingers through her short black curls awkwardly and gave me a funny little smile. Then she grabbed the chair and sat down.

"I can imagine this seems funny to you," she said. "But I thought there's no point anymore in thinking of us as rivals. So why shouldn't we be friendly with each other?"

I had found my composure. "Hm, I believe you have a point here. It's just you've never really noticed me before..."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I suppose somehow I always thought of you – erm – you know..." she faltered, embarrassed.

"The blonde bimbo," I finished the sentence for her, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice," whose only talent lies in breaking poor boys' hearts, right?"

"Well – " she squirmed in her seat and twisted her fingers. I know I should be ashamed of myself, but I must admit I enjoyed her uneasiness.

"Forget it," I said finally, "it's nothing new to me. But apparently you have changed your mind about this one?"

Her embarrassment seemed to subside.

"Well," she said again, "obviously you are not the – " she hesitated, but then, with a visible effort, continued, "dumb pin-up I took you for, coming through this competition successfully. And I just wanted to tell you that, I suppose. – Hm, I guess I'd better be going over to my usual seat," she finished lamely, starting to get up.

"No," I said, putting my hand on her arm, "just stay here, please. You don't know how much this means to me. It's about the first time someone acknowledges something else but my looks. And I don't mind repaying your compliment: You are not the stuck-up snotty prig I took YOU for, and I do admire your courage in coming up and telling me all this." (Looking back this was a wicked thing to tell her, but I just couldn't help myself.)

She relaxed visibly and her smile became more open.

"Thanks for taking it this way. Now let's just enjoy dinner, shall we?"

During and after dinner, we mainly told each other how we had managed in the cave. Margaux, of course, being in seventh year already, had been able to use more advanced spells than me. For example, she had used a freezing charm on the river and then changed the vertical waterfall into a gentle slope of ice that she could conveniently slide down. And she had transfigured her robes into salamander skin and thus crossed the fire. 

"But your idea with _vestimentum glaciale_ was just as good," she told me, and I must admit I felt flattered in spite of myself. 

Eventually, she said good night and went over to her seventh year friends, and I turned to chat some more to Charmaine, who looked somewhat miffed because I had been more or less ignoring her for the last half hour or so. 

Now it's 10.30, Charmaine has already gone to bed, and I'll do the same presently. I have not been in such a good mood for a long time, I mean, I've made it into the shortlist for champion, and someone seems to actually respect or even like me for my brains instead of my appearance. And I'm going to Scotland, too! It's a shame they don't cancel lessons for us, over there, but one can't have everything, I suppose. Which reminds me, I've still got to do that Potions essay. 'Evaluate the dangers and merits of the use of scorpion stings in resuscitation potions' - 150 cm of parchment. I've not even started, and it's due tomorrow. Well, old Venefice will surely be happy enough if a possible champion hands in her stupid essay a couple of days late, so I won't worry too much about this.

Oct. 7th, 1994

Had an enthusiastic letter from my mother, - well, as far as she can be enthusiastic, that is. Calling me her dearest daughter, saying how very proud of me she is, and, of course, how it has paid to apply myself, bla bla. And also, being my mother, stressing how sure she is that I'll do my best and all the family believing in me, and so on and so on. Honestly, I did almost wish I had not made it on to the shortlist. 

Actually, I really am in two minds about that tournament. It's great to get away from the normal school routine, and to get to know something new, to be sure. However, I'm not so sure whether I'd like to take all the risks connected with it. I keep telling myself that I'll probably not get chosen anyway, after all, there are ten seventh year students, who know a lot more about practical magic, but somehow I have a weird feeling that it's not experience or knowledge that will count. 

I loved Gabrielle's letter, though. It's so sweet how relieved she is that I am fine after all these adventures, and I would so love to see her and give her a great big hug.

Still got to do some 40 cm of parchment for my potions essay, so I'd better start on that now.

Oct. 9th, 1994

Just the thing I needed! A reporter of _Semaine Sorciere _was here today They are doing a bit on the Tournament, so we had to gather in the Hall and crowd around Mme. Maxime, to have our picture taken. Then Maxime generously allowed the reporter to interview the "prospective champions". 

I had seen the photographer's eyes light up when he spotted me among the students, and tried to make myself as inconspicuous as possible, but it was no use, of course. The reporter headed straight towards me and started to ask me all those stupid questions. How I felt about going to Scotland, and what chances I gave myself of being chosen to be champion. What my parents said about the whole thing, and if I was proud of being on the shortlist in spite of being so young. All simple and straightforward questions that he might have asked anyone.

The photographer was taking photos of me all the time, which soon started to irritate me, and then the stupid idiot asked,

"Isn't it unusual for someone of veela ancestry to go in for such an exhausting and potentially dangerous task? I mean, one would expect your talents to lie in a somewhat different field?"

Maybe I'm really paranoid, but looking at him I had a very clear impression of the sort od 'talents' he had in mind.

"I think I have proved my talents, thank you very much," I hissed at him, and I was satisfied to see a spark of fear in his eyes. "And it has nothing whatsoever to do with my ancestry. And while you're at it, tell those readers of yours a person's personality goes beyond the pictures you see in a glossy magazine. Now if you'll excuse me – "

And I stormed off for a long walk in the park.

Oct. 10th, 1994

The new issue of _Semaine Sorciere_ has arrived. They've put my picture on the cover,  with a collage of dragons, mounted knights and walls of fire as a background. I think I look terribly silly, a naive smile on my face and my hair flying all over the page. I wonder how they did it, there was definitely no wind in the Hall where they took all those pictures. 

The article itself is rather harmless, although, of course, not very exacting on the readers' intelligence. Next to zero information and full of expressions like 'spirited', 'courageous', 'clever' etc. They have not even bothered printing anything anyone told the reporter, there is just Mme. Maxime's piece about the importance of international relations and getting to learn tolerance appreciation of different cultures. The whole thing extends over two pages, and about three quarters of it is just pictures. 

Charmaine has not made her mind up yet whether to be jealous or proud of being my friend. But I trust with a little persuasion she'll come round. Margaux, at any rate, has had a good laugh about the article, which has given my spirits quite a boost. We are really starting to get closer.

Oct. 15th, 1994

Same old routine, lessons, homework, presentations; I sometimes ask myself whether the whole thing really happened. 

Oct. 25th, 1994

Or departure has been announced! We'll be leaving Friday, the thirtieth, after lunch. We are to take one trunk with personal belongings. Must find out whether I can take Grisabel along.

Xxx

Asked Maxime, and after some discussion convinced her to let me take my cat. I argued that having her with me would attribute to my balance of mind and so further my chances in the Tournament. Maxime was obviously preoccupied, so she agreed without any fuss. I'm happy I can take Grisabel, and I hope she'll like that mouldy old castle, - there are sure to be lots of mice there..

Xxx

At dinner, Maxime informed us that we will need dress robes! Seems there is going to be a ball! She was quite adamant that everyone must have some; apparently, it's in the interest of the school's reputation to do our best to show off as much as we can. Considering that the terms 'Haute Couture' and 'Britain' more or less exclude each other, this shouldn't be too difficult,  but knowing the way boys behave around me, I hate the idea.

However, these being our headmistress' explicit orders, there's not really anything I can do, so I'll tell mother to get something for me, and I know she'll just love it.

Oct. 29th, 1994

Maman has sent my dress robes, and I must give this to her, she does have taste. The silvergrey satin is just lovely, and it fits me perfectly. She has also sent an enormous package of stuff for doing my hair and my face, but somehow I have a feeling I'm not really going to enjoy all this. 

We are to deposit our luggage in front of the dormitories tomorrow after breakfast for the house elves to deal with, and after lunch, at exactly two o'clock, we are to assemble on the drive in front of the chateau. I wonder how we are going to travel. It can't be by floo, or we wouldn't have to be outside. Well, I'll know about that in not even twenty-for hours. 

I'm quite nervous, now that things finally get going, after all it means almost eight months in a foreign country, but I'm not going to let my nervousness show. The mask of haughty arrogance has been useful before.

A/N: Ahhh – finally got the preliminaries done! Next chapter will start the story proper. Keep reviewing!

Nobody has had an idea yet about the names of those maisons de Beauxbatons, think about it, people!


	7. Hogwarts

A/N: Finally, the things we are all familiar with begin. Perhaps I should do this stupid Disclaimer routine for once: So for all the illiterate sods that have never heard this before – all the good and interesting characters belong to the genius JKR. I fell, though, that at least some part of Fleur does belong to me (and who would not love this idea?). R&E&R!

**Chapter 7 – Hogwarts**

Oct. 30th, 1994

We're on our way to Scotland! As I'm writing this, we are approximately 3 km above Lyon, going north-northwest. Mme Maxime says it will take about three more hours until arrival.

After a very emotional good-bye from a rather tearful Charmaine (I never realised she likes me that much), I got my backpack with Grisabel already in it, and went down to meet the others in the drive. It was a the sort of mild autumn day that is so typical of southern France, with the sun in the pale blue sky spreading that kind of golden mist I love so much. Everybody was rather nervous, trying to hide the fact more or less successfully.

After we had been waiting for a couple of minutes, venturing guesses about the means of transportation ("Portkey? Too complicated for so many people." – "Apparating? Don't be stupid you can't apparate here." – "Dragonriding? Rubbish that's a silly Muggle story."), a rumbling noise from the sky made everybody look up.

And it was an impressive sight, indeed, and the idea of dragons did not seem so far fetched for a couple of seconds. Black against the bright afternoon sky, the silhouette of a carriage came into sight, drawn by a dozen winged horses. As they came nearer, their enormous size became apparent: Each horse as big as an elephant, and the carriage the size of a medium house. The rumbling noise increased to thunder until finally with a tremendous thump the horses touched the ground and the carriage came to a standstill exactly in front of the pinewood doors of the chateau. Now, with the sun no longer in my eyes, I could see more details. In spite of their intimidating size, the horses were beautiful – golden palominos with blindingly white mane and tail, their vast wings now folded on their backs and glittering in iridescent hues. They were harnessed with golden bridles to the pale blue carriage that looked even larger now, at close quarters.

Now Mme Maxime appeared from the castle, and next to her, the horses and the carriage suddenly fell back into fitting proportion. She signalled imperiously to Armand, a boy from Maison Salamandre, who hurried over towards the carriage. He had to stretch his arm and reach high above his head to grasp the latch and open the door. A couple of golden steps appeared, and Maxime went up to the entrance. Right in the door, she turned to us and with a wave of her hand, which, as I noticed, was full of rings with a variety of stones, ordered us to follow her in.

As soon as the door had closed, there was a mighty jolt, and the carriage started swaying, thus showing that we had already taken off the ground. 

The room inside the carriage where we are still sitting is much smaller than the thing looked from the outside, and there are a couple of doors, too, so I imagine there will be more rooms. Also, I cannot see our luggage anywhere. The room itself looks similar to a salle commune at Beauxbatons, only smaller, with a number of easy chairs and one sofa on a carpeted floor, even complete with a fireplace, without a fire, of course. A crazy idea, really, a fireplace inside a carriage! 

"You can find a seat," Maxime told us, when the first shock at the departure had died down. "The journey will take about four hours, and we are due at Hogwarts at six. Take care not to crumple your robes, I expect everyone to look their very best."

With that, she deposited herself in an enormous armchair, muttered a spell and disappeared together with her chair.

Xxx

It's late at night, and I'm sitting on my bed inside the carriage, which has turned out to be a most remarkable invention and contains at least four bedrooms in addition to the salle commune and some assorted bathrooms and things, being similar to a house in more ways than just its size. I'm sharing a room with Margaux and Iphigenie Durberville, a rather shy girl from Maison Undene. I don't think I have spoken more than a couple of words to her yet, - I'm a bit surprised she entered into the whole Tournament thing and even made it as far as this, but what do I know, perhaps her parents pressured her into this, after all, there are other parents who do this sort of thing. Well, I guess I'll find out.

Oh dear, I'm rambling; I suppose I'd better start from the beginning. 

Except for a narrow escape from a collision with a Muggle air travelling contraption (a huge colourful globe with a small fragile looking basket hanging from it, - I really have no idea how they can make it fly without magic, it looks far too big), our journey was uneventful, everyone trying to kill time as best they could.

Dusk was already setting, when the motions of the carriage indicated that we were nearing our destination, and finally, with an almighty crash, first the horses' hooves and a second later the wheels of the carriage, bouncing heavily once or twice, touched the ground and came to a halt. 

With a popping noise, Maxime suddenly appeared among us. (It's a miracle really, with her bulk, that she didn't squash one of the students.) 

"We have arrived," she stated rather unnecessarily. Then she signalled to Armand again, who eagerly rushed over to the carriage door, opened it and jumped out into the gloomy dark that was a weird contrast to the brightly lit interior. A chilling draught could be felt through the open door.

"Grab some shawls or things," Margaux whispered to me.

In that regal gait of hers that the uses at special occasions, Maxime descended the steps, after waving to us to follow her.

It was quite dark already, and the first thing I could really see was the enormous silhouette of a many-turreted castle outlined harsh against the starry, velvety blue sky. The forbidding pitch-black skyline, however, was strangely balanced by the rows of innumerable brightly lit windows, which gave the building an almost cosy look. 

A crowd of people, who could only vaguely be discerned, were standing in a half circle, obviously expecting us. Maxime had walked up to a tall old man with long silver hair and beard, obviously one of the Hogwarts staff, and was talking to him, as her back was turned, however, I could not understand the words. The crowd gave us a round of applause.

"I do wish they'd cut the formalities," Iphigenie muttered, her teeth chattering, "I'm freezing." And I must say she never spoke truer word. I noticed some of my companions had, like me, wrapped some shawls around their heads, but in spite of this, we were shivering like everybody else, little frosty clouds rising from our mouths. 

Luckily, Maxime finally motioned to us again, and we proceeded in her wake, through the crowds, up some stone steps, and through enormous carved oaken doors into the brightly lit hall.

Hogwarts is really very different from Beauxbatons; although the two castles seem to be similar in size (from what I have been able to see in these few hours), there is a tremendous contrast between the elegant, almost dainty rococo interior of Beauxbatons, and the heavy, Romanesque arches and pillars, and the staircases crowded with suits of armour that, more often than not, could need some polishing. And the ghosts! True, some of them seem to be quite decent, but I cannot imagine Mme Maxime would allow something like this. We had hardly entered the hall (which didn't seem a lot warmer, anyway), when that huge water filled balloon exploded and everyone except Maxime got soaked. (Obviously, whatever thing had caused this had had enough sense not to make HER mad.) There was a mad cackling laughter, and a silver shadow zoomed across the ceiling and disappeared into the far wall. 

"What was that?" someone gasped, and even Maxime's poise appeared slightly thin on the edges.

"Probably a poltergeist", she told us, anger in her voice. "I'll talk to Dumbledore about this, make no mistake!"

Standing in a small group, huddled together in a vast cold and draughty hall, and in a foreign country, at that, is not the best way to improve your spirits, and when you are wet to the skin, the result is quite disastrous. It was in a rather edgy mood, therefore, that we spent the next twenty minutes or so, until finally all the Hogwarts students appeared and rushed across the hall and through another set of carved doors into what appeared to be the dining hall. 

Somehow, in the turmoil that ensued, Mme Maxime disappeared, and we were already starting to believe we had been forgotten, when a sullen looking man in shabby robes and with greasy hair, accompanied by a cat with large eyes, approached and motioned for us to follow him into the dining hall.

This hall is simply vast, and they have a way to enchant the ceiling so that you feel as if you were sitting under the open sky. It is really quite impressive in a straightforward, unsophisticated way, completely unlike the heavily gilded salle at Beauxbatons.

We were shown some seats at one of the four enormous tables. Like us, they have four houses here, and from what the students at our table said, I gathered that theirs was called Ravenclaw. 

Soon after we had found our seats, a group of people in thick fur cloaks entered and made their way to another long table at the far side of the hall. These had to be the Durmstrang students.

"They are a clever lot, aren't they?" Margaux told me. "Wish we'd braught such furs instead of these stupid silk rags."

In an elevated part of the hall, there stood what was evidently the teachers' table. Presently a door opened behind that table, and several people all in the black Hogwarts robes, entered, last of all Mme Maxime, followed by the tall old man she had been talking to at our arrival. 

"That's Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster," the girl next to me told me.

Tired, cold and wet (the normal Drying spell does not seem to work here properly), and generally in a rather bedraggled state as we were, we did not forget our manners and jumped to our feet as soon as Maxime appeared, expecting the Hogwarts students to do the same for their Headmaster. 

But far from that, they remained seated in the very casual manner they had been in before, and most of them didn't even bother to stop chatting to each other. What made me quite angry, though, was that some even laughed at us. Well, perhaps the famous British manners are not quite what they are supposed to be.

When all the staff had sat down, the Headmaster, who had remained standing, cleared his throat, and now, at last, everyone shut up to listen to him. Unfortunately, my English is not as good as I'd like it to be, so I could not completely understand his speech, but I gathered that he was welcoming us and the Durmstrangs, wishing us an "enjoyable and comfortable stay".

I know of course that it was bad manners, but I just couldn't help giving an ironic laugh at this, feeling far from comfortable and considering the less than enjoyable reaction of the Hogwarts students a minute or two ago. I noticed a girl with bushy brown hair glaring at me from the table next to ours.

In the meantime, the plates and dishes in front of us started to fill with various sorts of food. Having heard some less than pleasant stories about British dishes (terms like Haggis or black pudding were flitting through my mind), I was relieved to find some familiar dishes in addition to some rather weird looking ones. There was a very good-smelling Bouillabaisse, a very nice Coq au vin and a delicious Boef Stroganoff. I did try some of the other dishes, too, and the stories about black pudding, for one, are perfectly true, it's one of the most awful things I ever tasted.

The Hogwarts students at our table were an adventurous lot, they were quite interested in tasting the foreign dishes, and so the Bouillabaise had soon disappeared. I looked around and saw that on the table next to ours, they still had a bowl of it that was almost full.

So I got up from my seat, went over to the other table and asked a red-haired boy with a freckled face whether I could have the bowl. I haveseen many idiotic reactions when addressing boys, but his was one of the most ridiculous ever. His face turned a shade of purple I've never seen before, and hopenever to see again, he opened his mouth like a fish and nothing except a faint gurgling noise came out. If it hadn't been for another boy sitting next to him, who pushed the bowl towards me, I might still be standing there.

"Yeah, have it," he said.

"Yeah" his red-haired friend finally managed to echo, "it was excellent."

(Miserable liar, I'm perfectly sure he never even touched it.)

Only when I had returned to my seat I realised that that other boy had not seemed to be affected by my appearance in any way. He had just spoken to me perfectly normally, disparagingly, if anything. Even now, looking back, I feel there is something strange about him. Not that he looks anything special, quite the contrary; he must be about fourteen, of average height, and rather skinny at that; but even though he hardly looked up when he said those few words to me, I still remember the vivid green of his eyes under that messy black hair of his. But I'm putting too much emphasis on a small episode ...

After dinner had been finished, the Hogwarts headmaster stood up again. After introducing some people, who were apparently going to be judges in the Tournament, a great wooden chest adorned with jewels was carried into the hall. After some more remarks, - only what was to be expected, about prowess, and deduction, and, of course, danger, I really did not listen too carefully, - the casket was opened and revealed a large wooden goblet, plump and undecorated, which was a strange contrast to the box it had been in. The remarkable thing, however, were the blue-white flames that were dancing in it.

We were told that the goblet would be placed in the Entrance Hall, and we could enter our name and school on a slip of parchment tomorrow. Additional emphasis was put on the fact that entries of people under seventeen would be prevented by an Age Line. 

Presently, Maxime approached our table and we got to our feet and followed her out of the castle into the night that was now positively freezing, and back into our carriage.

There must be some house elves at work here, as we had a nice fire in the salle commune and also the bedroom is comfortably warm. Grisabel is already purring on my pillow, and I'm also going to bed right now. It's really been an exhausting day.

0000000

Thanks for reviewing, it helps a lot, especially when it's more than just "great story, keep going"

THALIA – you are making some good points and I'll see what I can do about the things you mentioned stay tuned, I appreciate it.

WICKERB – Just wait and see, I think I've put a hint in this chapter. And if you're so keen on H/F, why don't you go and write some yourself instead of wasting your time with completely different fandoms?

Finally, one last try: You know the names of three of the Beauxbatons houses now, any guesses as to the fourth?


	8. Chapter 8: FOUR Champions!

Four Champions! 

Oct. 31st, 1994

Today is Saturday, and there was not much of a point in getting up early, especially as Maxime has announced that she will lead us into the castle some time in the morning, to enter our names in the goblet.

The announcement caused some unrest, and it's right, I don't see what the point is. I mean, why can't everybody just walk up there on their own?

The house elves prepared breakfast for us in the salle commune; I believe they are Beauxbatons elves; the croissants and the cafe were definitely not English. Iphigenie told us she had been afraid of having to eat English breakfasts for all the eight months, and I really sympathised with her. Bacon and eggs, day in, day out, for more than two hundred days, to say nothing of baked beans and sausages, horrible!

After breakfast, Maxime told us the rules we are to follow during our stay at Hogwarts.

We'll have breakfast and lunch in our carriage, and go over to the castle for dinner in the evening. On weekdays, we're going to have our regular lessons, connected to the classroom in Beauxbatons through the fireplace. ("And don't forget, all of you except for the champion, will have to do their tests at the end of the year.") Until further notice, we are not supposed to leave the carriage on our own, another stupid idea, - how about the stuff of "international relations"? However, she generously promised that this would probably be changed soon.

Must stop here, she is just signalling to us to go over to the castle.

Xxx

The air is clear and fresh outside this morning, and, although it's a lot colder than back home at this time of the year, it's nothing like yesterday evening; probably also because we all put on cloaks before leaving the carriage.

The Goblet of Fire was sitting in the huge Entrance Hall on a three-legged stool; several Hogwarts students were milling around it, but apparently all those who wished to enter their names had already done so. Among them, I noticed the red-haired boy again, whose eyes started to get bigger the moment he saw me. I noticed that his friend pointed me out to him with a smirk, and I do believe I blushed in spite of myself. Telling myself off silently, I got in line with the others, following Maxime's instructions. I really don't see why she insists on all these mindless law and order ideas. Who does she want to impress? I believe the Hogwarts students must regard us as immature helpless babies, unable to take a step on their own, always needing supervision and guidance...  I'm not really sure why, but the thought annoys me a good deal.

In due course, we put the parchments with our names into the goblet, which turned red and emitted some sparks each time. This done, we filed out of the hall and returned.

No we are having some time off, which seems stupid as we are not even supposed to leave the carriage, and in the evening we'll have dinner in the castle again, where the selection of champions will be announced. The tension among us is increasing again, and it's funny: In the beginning, I entered into all this just because I knew my mother expected me to, but now I start to hope that I will be chosen for champion. Of course I'm aware that it's highly unlikely, what with everyone being a year advanced in their magical education, and all, but it would be really great ... Well, I'll know in a couple of hours.

Xxx

Writing these entries late at night seems to become a habit with me, really, and it's going to be another lengthy one, too! I'm quite confused, and I'm not even quite sure of all the reasons, I think. Suppose I start at the beginning.

When we left our carriage around half past five, Maxime was joined by the enormous teacher I had seen at the staff table yesterday evening. He was not one centimetre smaller than her. Talking animatedly, the two of them seemed to forget about us and proceeded towards the castle with such great strides that we had to fall into a kind of swift trot to keep up with them. Somewhat out of breath, we finally reached the Great Hall and took our seats. 

The Hall was filled with the excited buzzing of several hundred students speculating about the goblet's choice. The murmur reached a climax, though, when a group of people in blood red robes entered, obviously the Durmstrang delegation. Leading them was a tall and thin man with a rather absurdly curled goatee (I mean, for Merlin's sake, Richelieu lived centuries ago!), who was obviously their headmaster, immediately followed by sullen-looking youngster who must be a student, although he looks several years older. I do not like him at all, although I know, of course, that it's unfair to judge a person from their looks; but his surly expression under those thick black eyebrows made me shiver involuntarily.

However, his appearance caused quite a commotion among the students, many of him seemed to know him well.

"What about him?" I asked my neighbour, a pretty Asian girl with long dark hair, who was goggling at the youth excitedly.

"What?" She snapped out of her reverie. 

"That slouching guy over there," I told her, "what's so special about him?"

She gaped at me incredulously.

"You mean, - you – you don't know him?"

"No, indeed, I don't. Is this a crime here?"

"He's Krum, Viktor Krum!" And when I stared at her blankly, she continued, "the seeker of the Bulgarian national Quidditch team!"

"I see," I muttered, trying to sound impressed. I love flying a lot, but I've never seen the fascination of Quidditch.  I mean, what's so great about throwing a stupid ball all over the place while trying to avoid being smashed by some other nasty balls? Honestly, all competitive sports are a nuisance. They bring out the worst sides in players and audience alike, and really are 'a war minus the shooting', as some famous Muggle writer has said. (He was British, if I remember correctly.)

However, I was not going to tell her all this, as she was so obviously besotted with the idea to be in the same room with a guy who spent his spare time dodging bludgers (and, probably, getting hit in the head by them more often than not).

After the teachers had entered, the feast began, and it was just as good as yesterday, but it seemed as if nobody was really too interested in their food. Everyone seemed to be just waiting for the Hogwarts Headmaster to finish his dinner.

Eventually, all the plates and dishes disappeared, and the Headmaster rose from his seat. A dead silence fell immediately.

After a few words that I failed to grasp. He waved his wand and almost all the candles went out, so the hall was plunged into a kind of dusky twilight, with the Goblet as the brightest object in the entire hall.

Suddenly, the white flames in the Goblet turned red, sparks were flying, and a piece of parchment flew into the air. 

"The champion for Durmstrang," the Headmaster called out, "will be Viktor Krum."

Everyone broke into applause and cheering; apparently most people in the hall were familiar with his fame. 

Viktor Krum did not seem to be too excited at being champion; from the way he was slouching up to the staff table and then disappeared through a door in the background, one would have imagined that he was going to do some deadly boring household chores, not compete for fame and riches in an exciting and dangerous tournament. 

While I was still wondering about this strange attitude (why had he entered his name in the first place?), the next piece of parchment had shot out of the Goblet.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," the words rang out, "is Fleur Delacour!"

I was stunned, and if Margaux had not nudged me, I'd have remained sitting there. Shaking my head in disbelief, I finally got up and followed Viktor Krum into the room behind the staff table.

The room was rather small but looked quite comfortable, lined with portraits, and with a nice fire in the grate.  Viktor Krum was leaning against the mantelpiece, scowling at the carpet at his feet. He glanced up shortly when I entered, but otherwise ignored me completely. Embarrassed, I walked over to the other side of the fireplace, and started looking at the portraits.

After a short time, the door opened, and a handsome boy entered, who, I supposed, was the Hogwarts champion. He smiled at me, which eased my tension a bit, and then went to stand next to me, staring into the fire. 

"All right," I said to myself, "now the jury will come in and give us our instructions presently."

However, the next person who entered was the green-eyed boy I had seen twice before. His expression was quite bewildered as he looked around the room.

To ease his apparent unease, and as nobody else seemed to be going to say anything, I enquired what the matter was. I thought, of course, that he had been sent with some message from the staff or jury.

The boy did not answer, and I thought his confusion was increasing.

Suddenly, the door opened again, and the chubby middle-aged man in colourful robes, who had been at the staff table, and who, I had gathered, was called Bagman and was a member of the jury, burst into the room.

For the first time, I got the idea that there was something wrong. And indeed, Bagman's next words confirmed my suspicions.

Taking the boy's arm and leading him up to the fireplace, he addressed us:

"May I introduce – incredible as it may seem – the FOURTH Triwizard champion?"

Of course, none of us could believe this, and I thought this was some kind of stupid joke and expressed this idea. But Bagman insisted that this was definitely no joke, and even when I pointed out there must have been some mistake, - which he did not deny, - he confirmed that the boy, whose name appeared to be Harry, would HAVE TO do his best, as he put it. Evidently, he did not expect anyone so much younger to stand any real chance in the Tournament.

Soon, Headmaster Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, the Durmstrang Headmaster, and three other people, obviously some Hogwarts professors, entered.

I went over to Maxime immediately, telling her that "this little boy" was going to compete also. Perhaps I shouldn't have stressed the "little" so much, as I distinctly saw a look of annoyance in his eyes, and it really was somewhat tactless. But he WAS a lot smaller than the other champions, and three to four years younger, at that.

She put her large hand on my shoulder in what she probably meant as a reassuring gesture, but all I could do was remain standing upright with this additional weight. "Hogwarts cannot have TWO champions," she said in a very angry voice. "It's most unjust."

One of the Hogwarts professors, whom Dumbledore called Severus, and whose expression was just as surly as Krum's, if not more so, and whose hair could have used a good wash, accused the boy called Harry of having put his name into the Goblet breaking the rules, and it was obviously he detested him. In this conversation I learned that the boy's full name was Harry Potter. I knew I had heard the name before, but could not place it at the time.

Harry Potter fervently denied the accusation, and Dumbledore seemed to believe him. The professors and other jury members began a heated discussion that was interrupted when once more somebody entered. 

I had never seen a person as weird, or, yes, even creepy, like this. An elderly man of average height, with long untidy grey hair, somewhat stooped, and with a wooden leg that caused a dull thud on the floor at every step. His face looked as if it had been battered with every single intrument imaginable, it was a mess of scars and burns, and some parts, especially of his nose seemed to be missing altogether. But the really frightening thing about him were his eyes: While one was normal enough, dark and perhaps rather small for the rough hewn face; the other, however, was almost twice its size, and of a bright blue. But not enough, this eye could move completely independently from the other, and sometimes it seemed to disappear altogether, as if looking INSIDE the head. It really made my flesh creep.

This spectre of a man who the others addressed as Moody, seemed to be absolutely convinced the boy Harry had not used any trick, but that someone else had put his name into the Goblet. And he added, that if anyone had got a reason to complain, it was the boy himself.

At this moment, I lost my patience. I really didn't understand what there was to complain about, if one got a chance of a lifetime like this.

"This is a chance many would die for!" I almost shouted.

Moody's answer came as a perfect surprise:

"Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it," he said, and his voice reminded me of  the growl of some wild creature.

And now, at last, something clicked. Of course, Potter! THE Harry Potter! The Boy Who Lived! And suddenly, Moody's idea did not seem so absurd any more. What if there had really been some secret follower of the Dark Lord who wanted to use a chance to get at his master's deadly enemy? It would really be a most excellent opportunity. I looked at the boy again, with a new respect.

They kept on arguing some more, although it seemed clear enough already that the fact that Harry's name had come out of the goblet had formed a binding magical contract that could not be broken, anyway. After what seemed hours, and it did not help that I could only understand part of what they were saying, the Ministry of Magic official gave us the information we had all been waiting for.

The first task is going to take place on November twenty-fourth, and it will test our "daring".  Consequently we were not told anything about what it will be. Obviously some dangerous thing, with an additional surprise factor. He also stressed that we were not allowed to accept any help from the teachers. I'm pretty sure, though, that Maxime will do anything to ensure that Beauxbatons wins this Tournament, and will not let herself be stopped by such rules.

Still obviously angry, Maxime put her heavy arm around my shoulder again, and steered me out of the room, through the now deserted hall, and to the carriage.

I've had quite a job calming Margaux, who feels she has received a personal injury not being selected for champion, but she's finally stopped and even offered to  help me with my tasks. The was intrigued by the mysterious appearance of Harry Potter as the fourth champion, and entered into all sorts of speculations, most of them involving sinister dark wizards and Death Eaters.

I wonder how he feels. If there is anything in Moody's theory, and it seems a lot more likely indeed than that a student his age, - he cannot be higher than fifth year, but I guess he's only fourth, anyway, - should have been able to sidetrack a powerful magical object like the Goblet, let alone our time's most powerful wizard, Dumbledore. Will he feel scared? He did look confused, and certainly not happy in any way. It must quite frighten him, all things considered. Poor boy, he hasn't even got parents to talk to about this strange thing. He must feel lonely…

But then is there so much of a difference between having parents like mine, and none at all? It's a mean thing to say, of course, but this mother of mine …

It's been another exciting and tiring day, I should really get some sleep now. 

A/N: Alright, what say you? It is really not so easy to fill in the blanks in a story that already exists without running into contradictions. I hope I have done reasonably well.

Yes, and a question again, there seem to be people out there who like such things.

Which famous Muggle writer had this idea that sports was "war minus the shooting"? I'll give you a hint: His most famous novel was made into a film with Richard Burton, whose name in the film is Winston. Anyone know this?


	9. Chapter 9: Killing time

Hello everybody! As the title say, there's not much really happening in this chapter, I was just wondering what Fleur's first impressions might be like.

Chapter 9 – Killing time

Nov 1st, 1994

Mme Maxime took us for a tour of the village today. It's called Hogsmeade, and is said to be the only entirely magical place in Britain. Indeed, there is not really very much to it, it's a lot like Batonville in this respect. Of course, it looks different; the houses are made of dark stone and must be awfully cold most of the time. (In fact, I very much doubt whether it ever gets warm in this part of the world.) There are boxes for flowers in front of most windows, and each house has a front garden. There are no flowers there at this time of year, naturally, but I can imagine it looks quite pretty in summer. There are not really any shops worth mentioning, although the Hogwarts students seem to be crazy about Honeyduke's, which is a sweet shop, and Zonko's, which, to judge from the bangs and smells coming from it, must be dealing in the less than intelligent sort of jokes. There is also a place there that calls itself a fashion store, but it's a laugh, I'm sure none of us would want to be seen dead in any of their things.

The only place of interest, - if you can call it that, - is what they claim to be the most haunted building of Britain; actually, it's a rather plain derelict one-storey house with boarded-up windows that has apparently not been lived in for many years. It's somewhat disappointing, thinking of all the hair-raising stories I've heard about haunted places in Scotland.

Maxime also allowed us to go into the local inn (it's called The Three Broomsticks, what a funny coincidence!) for one mug of butterbeer (I think I'm going to use the English name for it, it also tastes somewhat different). This is another favourite place of the Hogwarts students, and when we entered, it was quite full. I still don't understand how Maxime managed to get in without the place bursting to pieces; she must be using some magic of her own. 

Of course, everybody stared at her, and as I was wearing my muffler, nobody seemed to take much notice of me, but you can't very well have a drink with a shawl round your head, and as soon as everybody saw my hair, the well-known murmur started. I've often wondered whether there is some sort of magic connected with it, perhaps there is some trace of the Veela magic in it that makes people react to it in that typical way. There must be SOMETHING about it, as I can't even cut it shorter, it's always this pretty inconvenient length.

Thankfully, we did not stay long, and soon afterwards were back in our carriage. Now I'm going to write a really long report to Gabrielle about these last three days; I'm sure she's dying to hear the news. Regular lessons are starting tomorrow, and although, as a champion, I won't have to do any exams at the end of the year, I'm expected to sit in classes, do homework, and all the other things. I suppose, though, it's a good thing, because I don't really know what I'd do all day long, as there isn't anything at all I can do in preparation for the first task. I wonder how they will manage the technical side of teaching us with the teacher remaining over at Beauxbatons. I'll know tomorrow, I guess.

Nov. 2nd, 1994

It's amazing, really! I had imagined that we'd just sit in that small common room in front of the fireplace, and the teachers' heads would appear there and talk to us. Far from it! There is apparently some spell, - it must be a very advanced one, - that gives you the perfect illusion of being in a classroom back in Beauxbatons, together with all the other students of one's respective classes. You can even talk to everybody, and they can answer; the only thing is you cannot get into any physical contact with them, and you cannot move out of that classroom. It would be nice to use this spell to talk to Gabrielle; I heard Maxime murmur something like _realitas virtualis,_ but even if I had heard the exact wording, I'm sure no student can perform it. But if I ever get to the Hogwarts library, I'll have a shot at looking it up, they have the largest magical library of Europe, and so they'll probably have something about this one, too.

Charmaine was stunned when she suddenly saw me appear in the transfiguration classroom, and she was positively speechless (and that is saying a lot), when I told her that I had been selected as champion. It seems they are having quite a laid-back time over at Beauxbatons, what with Maxime off their backs and everything, and I can really imagine that. She is making quite a nuisance of herself, wanting to keep us all under her wing constantly. I hope she'll relent some time soon.

I have taken to playing chess with Iphigenie, who is an astonishingly good player, and has already beaten me several times. She still is not much of a talker and can sit staring out of the window for ages. I believe she has a boyfriend back there, but I don't want to ask her. It must be nice to have someone who is actually missing you, - well, I have Gabrielle, of course, but it's just not the same.

Nov. 6th, 1994

It's quite amazing it's one week already. This has been a rather uneventful time, so far; the weather has been cold and rainy, and so we have hardly been able to get out. We just keep to the daily routine, and even the trip over to the castle for dinner is nothing new or interesting any more. However, we are slowly getting to talk to the students from the other schools, which is something, I suppose.

I have become somewhat friendly with the Asian girl who told me about Viktor Krum. Her name is Cho Chang, and her parents come from Hong Kong, although she herself was born in Birmingham. And she is Cedric Diggory's girlfriend.

"You'd better not talk to me too much, then," I told her on hearing this. (I'm sure my English is quite terrible, but I seem to be able to make myself understood, anyway.) "I don't want people to get the idea in their heads that I am spying on my competitor."

"Rubbish!" she laughed. "If you ever try anything like that, I'll be smart enough to notice and tell you to get lost, ok? Moreover, people could say the same about me, right?"

I agreed and she proceeded to tell me about Viktor Krum and his exploits at the Quidditch World Cup, how he "wanted to end it on his terms", as she put it, getting a horribly smashed face in the process. 

"Really, looking at him, you'd never believe all this" I remarked, pointing in the direction of the table where he was sitting. "He looks absolutely fed up with everything, life itself, if you ask me ... "

"Yes, I've wondered myself," she said thoughtfully. "I guess it's because he's so famous. You have noticed all those girls, haven't you?"

I had, indeed. Right from the second or third day, there has been this gaggle of girls (I'm ashamed to admit there are some Beauxbatons among them) trailing after him, giggling and nudging each other, asking him to sign things for them. I hope I'm wrong, but I believe one handed him some knickers for signing! He must really hate it; everyone sucking up to him because of his fame, no one bothering about what he really is like.

Writing this I have just realised that in some ways I have something in common with Viktor Krum ... Of course, he has a choice where I have none, he could just stop playing Quidditch, while I can't even cut my hair, but we are in a similar situation, aren't we? Strange, though, that a distinct feeling of revulsion creeps up in me when I look at him.

Cho remarked on this too. "I do admire him, and everything," she told me. "But I keep asking myself if it's a coincidence he and the other Durmstrangs chose their seats at the Slytherin table..."

Apparently Slytherin is the one house at Hogwarts all the others hate, and Cho went on to tell me that most if not all the dark wizards in history had come from this house. It's similar to our Maison Gnomone, who shares this infamous record.

The Durmstrangs are really a rather strange lot. First of all, their delegation only consists of boys; now this doesn't automatically imply that they are a boys only school, but it very much suggests it. I have read that people tend to be more conservative in the east, and this seems to be one example. I have also noted that the Durmstang headmaster – I keep forgetting his name – has been favouring Viktor Krum from the beginning, even before he was selected as champion. Now I must hand it to Maxime that she does her best to treat me on an even basis with the others, but of course, the fact in itself that I won't have to do any exams gives me a great advantage over my classmates. I wonder whether being champion means that you automatically pass your finals in the end of seventh year – if you ARE a seventh year, that is, which I'm not. It seems so – how absolutely unfair I will still have to do them next year!

I'm rambling again. I wanted to write about the Durmstrangs. As I said, they are only boys, most of them a lot larger than Krum. I'm probably superficial and judging by appearances only, but I can't say that I like them. Apart from their rough sounding language they look rather untidy, most of them have long greasy hair, and very often there are stains on their robes. Their dandylike headmaster is a striking contrast, which gives him an aura of dishonesty. However, they all seem to get on quite well with the Slytherin students at their table. I know I must be careful not to let myself be prejudiced, but I do have an uncomfortable feeling about them.

Nov. 8th, 1994

Sunday evening. Nothing much has actually happened but Maxime seems to be relenting in her close supervision. The weather was bright and sunny, if cold, and today she allowed us to go out on our own. 

"That's great," Iphigenie said to me. "Let's go to the village." And then, seeing my hesitation, she inquired, "What's the matter with you? Don't you think you need a change, too?"

"Of course I do," I told her, "but you know how everybody reacts … I just hate it when they are all gaping at me like stupid morons."

"I think I can handle that," she smiled, "come here…"

She grabbed my hair, and twisted and rolled it up in an intricate way, until it was a tight mass round my head. 

"Now you'll put on this," she said, producing a shimmering blue-green fabric, and covered my head with it. "I suppose this will do. Come over to the mirror."

It did look rather strange, as if my head was twice ist usual size, but at least all my hair was hidden beneath the scarf. 

"Thanks," I said. "It looks like a severe case of hydrocephalus, but let's give it a try."

It worked, more or less; I did get several stares, to be sure, but this time I was satisfied to see curiosity or perhaps even slight revulsion in them. The whole arrangement, however, was so uncomfortable that I don't think I will use it very often.

When we entered, there was a loud discussion going on among the Hogwarts students in the pub, although it did not sound like a quarrel. When we had found a table and had ordered our drinks, we could hear the argument more clearly.

"And I still say he cheated and made fools of averybody," I heard a boy say.

"Of course he did," a tall black girl agreed. "How absolutely clever of him. I'd never have thought it could be done. But then, Harry has always been someone special..."

"How CAN you possibly say such a thing?" the blonde boy's voice was dripping with false self-righteousness. "We can't have this, you know. What would the world be coming to if everybody showed such TERRIBLE disregard for rules?"

And he pressed a badge on his lapel, which suddenly flashed POTTER STINKS in vivid green. Two thuggish boys next to him broke into guffaws.

"Ah, shut up, Malfoy," the black girl retorted. "You're just jealous there's no Slytherin champion."

"How stupid they are," I said to Iphigenie. "Do they really believe a fourth year student could have done it?"

"You heard that Malfoy type," she replied. "I think they are long past reasoning. Now, it's just a matter of pride and jealousy for them. I think they'd believe a first year could have done it"

"You're probably right; I wonder how he feels. It must be pretty hard for him either way."

When we approached the carriage, Margaux stopped us and pointed. "Look!" she giggled.

Some distance away, - it's difficult to guess at distances when the object in the distance is about twice the size it should normally be, - wesaw Maxime walking along the lake together with the large Hogwarts teacher that usually sits at the High Table at dinner. The afternoon sun illuminated them very clearly. I must say I have never seen such an odd couple. Maxime, huge but perfectly gracious and elegant in her shiny black satin robes next to that enormous hulk of a man, an untidy mass of black hair on his head and in his face, wearing that horrible hairy brown suit with a checked orange and yellow tie. The amazing thing, however, was that there was not a centimetre difference in height between them. I've never realised just HOW huge Maxime really is.

Anyway, they seemed to get on very well with each other and were talking animatedly. I must ask Cho for that man's name tomorrow.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Ok, keep tuned for the next part, which will have a Harry/Fleur meeting again. And some reviews would be a nice idea, too.


	10. Chapter 10: There's something

Hello, everyone! This is just a rather short intermediate chapter, but I've tried to put in a few things that I believe are important. So bear with me, for this time, there'll be some more presently. Chapter 10 There's something… 

Nov. 12th, 1994

The week has been very quiet so far. Yesterday evening I told Cho that I missed flying, and she promptly offered to get a spare broom for me and to show me round the grounds. So we agreed to meet today after lunch, as we both happened to have a free afternoon.

When I came up the steps to the castle gates, she was already waiting for me. She was wearing a dark blue cloak, had her hair tied in a knot at the back of her head and was carrying two broomsticks.

"Here you are," she said, handing me one of the brooms. "You can have mine, it's not the newest model, to be sure, a Nimbus 1805, but you know how expensive these are ... "

I felt embarrassed, thinking of my own top model CdF 2002 back home. 

"That's really very kind of you," I replied, "what's that other one?"

"Oh, it's not much, just one of those ancient Cleansweep Sevens that hundreds of first years have had their first flying lessons on. Of course, players usually have more advanced models, but they'd never part with their pet brooms."

"It's mostly a boys' thing, right?" I said, smiling at her.

"I suppose it is. They'd rather lend each other their girlfriends than their brooms," she agreed with a wry grin. "Anyway, it will just do."

"No," I said firmly, " I won't have it. I mean, I appreciate your generous offer, but that old school broom will be good enough for me. I wouldn't dream of borrowing your boyfriend, either," I added grinning at her.

"If you insist... but I told you it was a boys' thing," she laughed and handed me the other broom.

Presently, we kicked off. It really WAS an old clumsy broom, but nevertheless, the feeling of freedom once I was up in the air was as exhilarating as ever. The air rushing into my face, - well, not actually rushing, what with the 'speed' it developed, to be honest, more of a gentle breeze, - raised my spirits no end.

Soon we were lazily cruising above the castle, and Cho pointed out the most important things to me, like the various towers, - unlike Beauxbatons, each House here has its own tower, - and especially the Astronomy Tower which is the highest, and where they have their Astronomy lessons at midnight. 

"That's the Forbidden Forest," she told me. "It's full of all sorts of creatures. Most are dangerous, to be sure, like werewolves or giant spiders, but there are also centaurs and they say there is also a unicorn or two …"

"Are you sure? It doesn't look big enough for all those creatures to live in."

"Funny, I never thought of that, but now you mention it – possibly there's some magic involved. You know, like those travelling trunks that are quite small on the outside but can hold tons of things."

"What muggles call a tesseract, yes, must be something like that. Does anyone ever go into the forest?"

"Hagrid, of course, he's our gamekeeper."

"Hagrid?"

"You're sure to have seen him, in fact," she added, grinning, "It's quite impossible NOT to see him, he's the – "

"He's that enormous hairy man who has a soft spot for our Madame Maxime!"

"That's the one. And he has a soft spot for her?"

"Seems so indeed," and I told her about the various times during the last two weeks that we had watched the two of them walking in the grounds.

Cho giggled. 

"Really? Just imagine the children they'd have together!"

"I'd rather not – But you were going to tell me who else goes into that forest."

"Who indeed? The great mystery guy who gets to do all the fabulous stuff; has, in fact, been doing it since he was a baby - "

"Harry Potter?"

"Clever girl! Yes, he was in that forest in his first year, just imagine, and then again in his second. I'm not sure about last year, but I'd be greatly surprised if he hadn't. Everybody else'd get into an awful lot of trouble, but him? Not the Boy-who-lived!"

"Are you jealous?"

"What? Merlin, no; he does get into the most frightful scrapes to be sure, and I'm definitely not asking for any of it. Seems You-know-who considers his year wasted if he doesn't have a go at Harry. And I'm sure Harry doesn't ask for any of it. He doesn't even talk about his adventures in there."

"But how do you know about it, then?"

"Nothing remains a secret here," she grinned at me. "Muggles may claim that nothing moves faster than light, but at Hogwarts, at least, rumours move a lot faster."

"So probably most of it won't even be true... "

"Probably; but I'm pretty sure the stuff about You-know-who is basically true, and it makes good sense, too, what with Harry causing his downfall in the first place."

A thought struck me. "What do YOU think about this business of Harry Potter turning out as the FOURTH champion? Did he cheat the Goblet of Fire and enter his own name?"

She frowned.

"I'm not sure, really. I would seem the obvious explanation. But it doesn't go with Harry's personality. I mean, the only motive for him could have been fame, and as I see it, the last thing he wants is any MORE fame than he has already. On the other hand, how else could you explain it?"

"Well, after what you've told me about Vous-savez-qui, I shouldn't be surprised -"

"But WHY, in Morgaine's name? What's the point?"

"Have you ever heard about the history of the Tournament? Some of those tasks were pretty dangerous and perhaps..."

"Perhaps, whoever entered Harry's name thought something would happen to him in the Tournament. And as it's what they call a binding magical contract, he can't get out of it and has to compete."

"Yes, and he's only - what was it? - fourth year, so he is far from being an accomplished wizard yet; and I can tell you some of those tasks are hard nuts to crack, even for experts. - But I suppose he can always just fail the tasks on purpose and so avoid most dangers. That contract doesn't require you do the very best you can, does it?"

"You have no idea of Harry Potter!" Cho seemed torn between anger and amusement. "Once he's got himself into something, willingly or not, he'll do his utmost to succeed. No, believe me, he'll be trying to get through as honourably as he can, he's not the cheating type! He'll probably even have a go at winning the bloody thing, whatever his odds!"

"You'd never think it; I mean, he's just a skinny boy, and half of his magical education still missing! How could he ever seriously imagine he's got a chance against seventh year students? He'll be lucky if he gets out of this unhurt!"

Cho said nothing for a minute, looking at me with a frown. Then she said suddenly:

"What colour are his eyes?"

"What? Why - Wait a minute - green! His eyes are green! Why are you asking?"

She grinned at my confusion. 

"See? You've only met him for those few moments, after all your names had come out of the Goblet, and I dare say you had something else on your mind then, not a 'skinny boy' you'd never seen before. Still, you remember the colour of his eyes! I'm telling you, Fleur, there's something about that boy..."

We swerved our brooms away from the Forest, over to the dark lake, where the black Durmstrang ship was gently rocking on the waves. The sails were rolled up on the beams, the deck was deserted, and there was no pennant or flag, or any other spot of colour. A sinister aura emanated from it.

"Let's go back," I said, my voice an involuntary whisper.

"Yes, let's," Cho replied. "It gives me the creeps, too."

A bit later we landed. I thanked her for the nice afternoon and promised I would try to get Maxime to allow me to show her around our place.

xxx

After what Cho had told me, I decided to watch Harry Potter more closely while we were having dinner this evening. This was not hard to do, as he was sitting perhaps four metres away at the Gryffindor table. To his left, there was that girl who had glared at me so furiously the first evening (and who still rarely passes me in the corridors without giving me the evil eye), and on his right the red-haired freckled boy, who had made such an utter fool of himself when I'd asked him to pass the bouillabaisse. This evening, our eyes met for a short moment, and again his face turned almost the colour of his hair, he choked on his food and turned away hurriedly.

Seeing his friend choking, Harry  started patting him on the back, and while doing this, he happened to look over towards me. 

I don't know what I expected. The familiar lecherous glint, probably, perhaps mixed with guilt or embarrassment, a blushing face, a quickly averted, embarrassed glance.

There was nothing like that in those green eyes. That look was open and good-natured, and I believe there was an amused smile playing on his lips when he turned his attention back to his red-haired friend.

It was actually the first time that a boy (or man, for that matter) had ever looked at me like that. Yes, Cho Chang was absolutely right. There definitely IS something about Harry Potter!

+++++++++++++++

A/N: See why I believe this is quite an important part, although (or perhaps because) it is NOT in canon? And it would have got too long if I'd included the wand weighing, of course. Tell me what you think. And I'd appreciate something more than just the old "good story, keep going". I mean, a nice review is – well, nice, - but I'd like to learn ho to make things better!

Oh yes, for those who are wondering: CdF, Fleur's broom, is for "Coup de Foudre" – what a coincidence (hehe)


	11. Chapter 11: The Wand Weighing

Chapter 11 - Preliminaries

Nov. 13th, 1994

This afternoon, after lunch, Maxime summoned me.

"Make yourself presentable," she told me curtly. "You are to go up to the castle in an hour. There is the Wand Weighing, which is the official start of the Tournament, and a photo session for the press. - What's the matter?" she added. I suppose I must have looked rather exasperated at hearing about the press.

"It's just - I hate it! I mean, everybody gawking and getting out of their wits..." I stopped abruptly. I had never said anything like that to her before, and I suddenly felt terribly embarrassed. To my surprise, there was something like a smile on her face.

"I understand," she said almost softly. "It must be quite a nuisance. Well, there's nothing much that can be done against the veela charm in your hair, as you will be well aware of, but there is a spell that will at least soften down the strongest effects; basically, it will allow men to keep their wits together, - such as they are, - so they won't annoy you too much."

I had never known there was any such spell, and my first reaction was anger at her for not telling me earlier. But I pulled myself together and begged her in my friendliest and most humble voice to teach me that spell.

"I'm afraid it has to be performed on you by somebody else," she told me. "Apparently, it goes back to Merlin himself, who invented it as a protection against the real veela spell. Also, it wears off after two hours or so, so I wouldn't put too much trust in it, if I were you."

"No matter, it's better than nothing," I replied. "I expect you'll go up to the castle with me, so please perform it as soon as we enter."

She agreed to do that, and I duly went to make myself 'presentable'.

+++

I put a lot of work into doing my hair, and I enjoyed it for the first time in ages, knowing about the spell Maxime was going to perform on it. Dressed in my sky-blue robes, and a thick scarf wrapped around me against the cold wind, I finally accompanied her up to the castle, almost jogging to keep up with her enormous strides.

At the steps to the great door, she stopped and pointed her wand at my head. "Coma obscurata!" I heard her say. I must try and look up this spell as soon as possible; perhaps there is some modification, so that I can perform it on myself.

When we entered the entrance hall, the grimy caretaker was fumbling around with a broom in a corner. Really, I don't see why they keep him. I've never seen him do any real work; the only thing he seems to be doing is spreading an almost tangible atmosphere of spite. He'd definitely not last a week at Beauxbatons!

Maxime summoned him with one of those imperial gestures of hers, and he slouched over to us.

"Lead us to where the Wand Weighing is taking place!"

He muttered something unintelligible and motioned for us to follow him. Presently, we arrived at a door, which he opened for us.

We were in a small classroom; most of the desks had been moved to the walls, and some had been placed in front of the blackboard and covered with a length of scarlet velvet. On one of the chairs behind this long desk, Bagman, the ministry official, was sitting, who rose at our entrance.

"Welcome, welcome!" he said, smiling profusely and walking towards us, his hands extended. Obviously, he wanted to shake Maxime's hand, but the way she presented hers left no alternative for him but to kiss it, and I had to suppress a smile. She really knows ho to establish social differences!

Viktor Krum was standing at one of the windows in that typical skulking posture, gazing out moodily into the gathering dusk. He didn't even look up when we entered. His headmaster was standing next to him, his expression not much friendlier.

Cedric Digory, on the other hand, came straight up to me. "Hello," he said with a friendly smile, "I mean - bon jour - "he corrected himself as Maxime gave him one of her severe looks. I had to grin at that. She can be very intimidating.

"Do you mind if I talk to Fleur a bit?" he inquired politely.

"Oh, go along," she said off-handedly, and went over to talk to Bagman.

"Cho told me about your excursion yesterday," Cedric said. "She rather likes you, and she says it's not your fault all the guys get crazy about you. So she thinks there's no harm if I'm being friendly with you, as long as I don't fall under that charm of yours, too." He grinned in a slightly embarrassed way. "So I put an Equanimity charm on myself, just to be on the safe side ... I hope you're not fed up now or something," he added hastily, "but I wouldn't want to hurt her for anything."

"That's so sweet of you! No, of course I'm not annoyed. You don't know what this means to me, this is about the first time in ages that I can talk to a boy without him getting in a state of drooling half-wittedness. An Equanimity charm? That is interesting - "

The door opened again, and two more people entered. One of them was a small paunchy man with a large camera, the press photographer, obviously. The second person was a woman in her late forties, to whom I took an instant dislike.

She was wearing perfectly tasteless magenta robes that would perhaps have been all right on a girl twenty-five years younger, but on her just accentuated her plump figure. Her absolutely unnaturally blonde hair was set in highly artificial elaborate curls, the stiffness of which put additional stress on her heavy-jawed mannish face. Thick fingers with about five centimetres of crimson nails completed this picture that would have almost been pathetic but for the distinct malevolent glint of the beetle-black eyes. 

"Wonder who she is," Cedric said.

"Probably some reporter," I replied, "she has brought that photographer along, hasn't she?"

Indeed, the fat man with the camera was regarding everyone in the room with something of a professional's eye, and of course, his interest at once turned to me. I'm sure if Maxime hadn't performed that charm, he'd have been all over me with his camera already.

There was a knock on the door, and Harry Potter entered, looking around him in a bewildered manner. Again, it struck me how small and almost forlorn he looked. It's really hard to imagine he did all those things Cho has told me about. 

As soon as the ministry official, Bagman, noticed Harry, he jumped to his feet to greet him exuberantly, a little too exuberantly, for my taste, and explained what the Wand Weighing was all about.

"And then there's going to be a little photo shoot," he went on, indicating the ugly witch in the magenta robes, "This is Rita Skeeter, she is doing a small piece for the _Daily Prophet."_

"So she really is a reporter," Cedric said under his breath. "I hope she can write better than she looks."

"Yes," I replied, grinning. "What with all those beauty charms, I'd never have thought her possible. But I'm sure she thinks she's smashing."

"Well, she IS smashing, I'd say," Cedric grinned back, "If you think of the original meaning..."

The Skeeter woman had spotted Harry at once and was now descending on him in a vulture-like fashion, her scarlet talons stretched out, and a false smile plastered on her face that made her even uglier. She was saying something to Bagman, and presently she grabbed Harry's arm and steered him out of the room before he had quite realised what was happening.

"Poor boy, hope she's not eating him alive," Cedric muttered.

We went on chatting for the next few minutes, interrupted only by the arrival of the second ministry official I had seen at the first feast, but whose name I didn't remember, together with another wizard, an old man with large pale eyes, whom I had never seen before. But from the way everybody greeted him, I judged he must be someone important.

"Mr. Ollivander!" Cedric explained, "of course, he's the British wand maker; he'll inspect all our wands to see they are in god working condition."

"Will you all take your seats now, ladies and gentlemen?" Bagman's voice rose above the general murmur. "The Weighing ceremony is starting soon."

While the judges, Maxime, the Durmstrang headmaster, and the two officials, took their seats behind the velvet-covered desks, four chairs were magically arranged for us next to the door. Cedric sat down on the chair at one end of the row, so I took the one next to him. It hardly surprised me that Viktor Krum very deliberately chose to sit at the far end of the row, leaving an empty chair between him and me.

A minute or two later, the door opened once again, and headmaster Dumbledore entered, followed by Harry Potter and Skeeter, who settled down in a corner, a quill poised and trying (unsuccessful, to my mind) to look unobtrusive.

After Dumbledore had introduced him, Mr. Ollivander stepped forward from his place by the window, and the ceremony could finally begin.

Unsurprisingly, being the only girl, I was called forward first and handed over my wand.

In his expert hands, it emitted some beautiful pink and golden sparks, but I was rather surprised how easily he recognized the veela hair in it. 

"I've never used veela hair myself, of course," he said. I'm still angry, now that I'm writing this down. What does he mean - 'of course'? What's wrong with a 'temperamental wand' as he called it? The way he was talking he could do with a bit of temperament, if you ask me!

Anyway, he produced a bunch of flowers (I must admit they are beautiful flowers, in this vase next to my bed), and returned my wand, apparently satisfied with its condition.

Cedric was next. Ollivander claimed to remember his wand well (I can't imagine how he can, he must have been selling hundreds of them over the years), and started into a story about the unicorn (a male unicorn, of course) he had taken the hair from that was inside the wand.

"You treat it regularly?" he asked by way of conversation, and I couldn't help feeling he was a lot friendlier to Cedric than he had been towards me.

"Polished it last night," Cedric said proudly.

A shower of golden sparks drew my attention to Harry, who was sitting in the chair next to me. Apparently, Cedric's words had made him think that his own wand could need some polishing, too, and so he had started surreptitiously to rub at it with a fold of his robes, which had made the sparks go up. It was quite an endearing reaction, and I couldn't suppress a smile. However, Harry noticed it, and he must have interpreted it as condescending or something, because he blushed, clenched both his hands tightly around the wand and stared fixedly at them in his lap. I felt sorry for him, but I didn't see what I could do.

Ollivander got Cedric's wand to emit a couple of silver smoke rings. (If that's what normal wands do, give me my 'temperamental' one any day!) 

Viktor Krum's wand was found to contain dragon heartstring, and for a test, a couple of small twittering birds were conjured up that flew out of the window. I was a bit disappointed; I would have expected something more dramatic from a dragon heartstring wand.

Finally, it was Harry Potter's turn.

"Ah yes, said Ollivander, his pale eyes gleaming with sudden interest. "How well I remember."

For some reason, he spent much more time examining Harry's wand, but did not say anything about its core. However, I considered the fountain of wine that he made shoot out of it a bit childish. What's the use of if you don't intend to drink it, anyway?

I had expected the whole thing to be over after this, but I was quite mistaken. 

"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" Bagman, the official, shouted. Really, his exuberance reminds me of a small boy, sometimes.

First, there was to be a group picture of all the judges and champions. This proved extremely hard to do, as Maxime was far too big for the photographer to get her into the frame. After a couple of fruitless experiments, they finally made her sit down, and all the rest had to stand around her. I noticed with some amusement that the Durmstrang headmaster kept fingering his ridiculous goatee, looking around trying to be noticed. Of course, the photographer tried to get me in the centre of the picture, but his attempts were thwarted by the Skeeter woman, who kept dragging Harry forward. The poor boy looked quite embarrassed by all the unwelcome attention and tried to get away, but she was unrelenting. 

After the group shootings, Skeeter insisted on separate pictures of each of the champions, which took quite some time, too.

Thankfully, I was first again; Maxime's spell must have been wearing off in the meantime, because the photographer's eyes were slightly glazed when he started walking round me taking his shots, and if this had lasted any longer, he might very well have demanded to take more indecent pictures of me. 

At last, after a short look at Maxime, who nodded agreement, I got up and fled out of the room.

+++

At dinner, I told Cho about the afternoon and congratulated her on having Cedric as a boyfriend. She promised to try and look up the 'coma obscurata' charm. This would be lovely, perhaps she can learn to do it, it would help me a great deal. Funny, how these two spells fir in with each other; I'd be surprised if that Equanimity one did not go back to Merlin, too.

By and large, it's been a good day, and I feel happier than I've been feeling for a long time. I do hope I'll get a chance to go to the library some time, there are loads of things I want to research. And I must not forget to send an owl home first thing tomorrow morning.

AN:

Lu – Thanks for your review!!! This is one of the few that are really helpful. Yes, it is quite some blunder, but I completely forgot about Harry and Ron not being on speaking terms. Thanks for pointing it out. Well, here's the Cedric/Fleur interaction for you. Hope you like it. Of course, doing anything on the Harry/Fleur level is next to impossible as I don't want to contradict The Book, so I'll have to carefully develop her feelings towards (who knows, perhaps also FOR) Harry, while any concrete interaction must be limited to the few encounters described in GoF. If you can think of any way out of this dilemma, let me know.


	12. Chapter 12: It's Dragons!

****

Chapter 12 It's Dragons!

Nov. 21st, 1994

The week has been rather boring. I do get very sweet letters from my mother, now that I'm champion, but they'd be much sweeter still if they didn't all contain those exhortations to do the best I can and assurances that I can certainly win if I set my mind to it. Not anything about not putting myself into danger, or even just about being careful, - not from my mother!

Gabrielle misses me, of course, but she is also very excited about her big sister being champion; she has no idea that this Tournament can and most likely will be dangerous, but I can't bring myself to tell her. I'll have to, I suppose, after the first task, whatever it is going to be, but I don't want to frighten her unnecessarily.

Cho and Cedric have invited me to accompany them to Hogsmeade this afternoon. Cedric suggested taking one of his friends along, a seventh year student named Roger, I think

"He's a nice enough guy," he assured me, seeing my doubtful expression. 

"And we'll tell him to do that Equanimity charm, too," Cho added.

"All right," I finally agreed, "but I'm telling you – if he's up to anything stupid, I'll just leave."

+++

It really was nice. This friend of Cedric's, Roger Davies, seems to be quite a decent person. Of course, him being under the Equanimity charm, I could not really judge his true self, but I believe the fact alone that he had allowed himself to be put under it suggests he must be. Anyway, he acted perfectly normally, and that's fine with me. We had quite an enjoyable time at the inn, talking about the usual unimportant things, and of course speculating about the impending first task.

"And you have absolutely no idea what's waiting for you?" Cho kept asking.

"Absolutely none," Cedric and I said together again and again.

"That task is going to test your - what was it? - your daring," Roger said, "so I guess it'll be pretty dangerous."

"Thank you," I replied dryly, which shut him up effectively.

"It might be some dangerous creature or other, most likely," Cedric reflected. "Hey, didn't we see some strange lights at the edge of the forest yesterday night?" he added to Cho.

"Oh? What were you two doing _at night_, may one ask?" I said teasingly and Cedric blushed profusely. (It's not easy to tell when Cho blushes, but I expect she did, too.) 

"We were - never mind, we saw some lights at the edge of the forest, and I pointed them out to Cho. But of course, we couldn't see anything distinctly. Might be something to do with preparations they are making. But then, it might not..."

"The Forbidden Forest?" I said, suddenly interested. "Didn't you tell me there were all sorts of things in there? Can you tell me a bit more?"

"As I've already told you," Cho said, "None of us have ever been in there, as far as I know, Harry Potter is the only student that ever went in -"

"And his friend, Ron Weasley," Cedric added.

"Yes, of course, I forgot - you do tend to forget him when talking about Harry, don't you?"

"Ron Weasley? Is that the red-haired one with the freckles and the semi-moronic expression whenever he looks at me?"

"That's him all right. Well, anyway, let me think... You know, there are all sorts of rumours, it'shard to tell what's true... Ron especially likes telling tall stories... But it's pretty certain that there are spiders in there, hundreds and hundreds, and their boss as big as a house. Ron talked about it two years ago, I remember it quite well. Mind you," she added, tryint to reassure me (I expect I had started to look worried), "As I said, Ron usually tells tall stories, so the 'house' part needn't be exactly true - "

"Horse would be enough," muttered Cedric. "I can't say I particularly like spiders..."

"What were they doing in there?"

"Something to do with You-know-who, apparently. People got Petrified all over the castle, and Harry was looking for a clue in the forest. It's a long story, remind me to tell you about it some time."

"Didn't someone say, Harry was in the Forest the year before, too?" Roger said thoughtfully.

"Yes, I remember hearing something about it," Cedric agreed, "although it's even more of a rumour than the one with the spiders. -"

"He was in there in his FIRST year?"

"Indeed. But Hagrid was with him, it was some detention thing - tough on an eleven-year-old, if you ask me..."

"Was what's his name - Ron with him again?"

"Not that time. There were three first-years with Harry: Draco Malfoy, you'll have seen him at the Slytherin table, the pale blond guy, with hair almost the colour of yours, who's always sucking up to Viktor Krum - "

"I know whom you mean."

"Then there was another Gryffindor, I keep forgetting his name, a rather small paunchy boy, and Hermione Granger, Harry's other best friend."

"That must be the one with the bushy brown hair who always glares at me as if she wanted to hex me to the next century. Lord, she must hate me..."

"She seems to have a soft spot for Ron," Cho said, grinning.

"Funny, the way she and Harry keep talking and looking at each other, I'd have thought she was HIS girlfriend."

"Actually, that's exactly what that Skeeter article in the Daily Prophet said..."

"Then I'll bet you anything it's not true; that woman is a pest. Anyway, so they went into that forest, and what then?"

"Rumour has it that Harry had an encounter with You-know-who, too..."

"Again? How can he cope with all this?"

"I can't imagine either. As I said, there is something special about Harry Potter."

"Well, according to rumour," Roger went on, "You-know-who was killing unicorns drinking their blood..."

"He wasn't!"

"I'm afraid he was. And they say Harry only barely escaped by riding away on a centaur."

"A centaur! But trying to ride one is about the worst insult for them!"

"Here you are again - something special..." Cho said matter-of-factly.

"Well, I supose they'll not set us against centaurs, they can be pretty peculiar, but they're not really dangerous," Cedric joked, but I don't think he felt like joking at all.

"And I doubt You-know-who would be willing to cooperate, either." Cho grinned.

"So the only thing in the forest we can be rather sure about is the spiders," Cedric started enumerating, "and there may be vampires, or trolls, or werewolves..."

"And there's a full moon on the 24th," Roger whispered excitedly.

"Thanks again, just what I needed," I said sarcastically.

"But there are lots of other possibilities," Cho argued practically. "There are hundreds of ways to test your daring, it doesn't even have to be any creatures at all."

"Pity we can't go to that edge of the forest and have a look," Cedric said. "But there are very strict orders to keep away from it."

"And it would be cheating," Cho reminded him earnestly.

"It wouldn't work, anyway," I stopped this train of thoughts. "So let's just pretend we'd never do any cheating, it looks so very good."

"Yes, let's," Cedric agreed. "And let's get another round of butterbeer."

Nov. 21st 1994 - no, 22nd 1.30 a.m.

Dragons!!! It's dragons! I'm still shaking.

I was already asleep, dreaming wild dreams of spiders and werewolves. Suddenly I was roughly shaken awake by Maxime.

"Wake up, Fleur! This is important!"

"What? Who?" It took me some minutes to come back.

"Come with me," she said urgently, "I must show you something."

She half-dragged me into the common room and deposited me on a rather uncomfortable chair. She must have done that on purpose to stop me from falling asleep again.

"I know what you are going to face at the first task."

"What?" I suddenly snapped wide awake.

"Hagrid, their gamekeeper, showed me. Look!"

She waved her wand in an intricate pattern, and said something like 'Aparecium imaginis'.

The lights went dim and an image appeared in the middle of the room:

The first thing that I saw was the light of fires, and some shadowy figures were darting here and there. But soon I saw it was'nt just fire. It was fire coming from dragons that were tied to massive poles inside a heavy wooden fence. There were four of them, blue, green, red and black, each looking terrible but, in a way, also beautiful. The creatures were tearing ferociously against their chains, and it seemed that the poles would go any minute. The dark figures, - they looked tiny against the monstrous beasts, - pulled out their wands and sent a synchronised Stunning Spell showering in sparks against the dragons, which fell to the ground with what must have been a tremendous crash. The wizards lost no time and hurried over to fasten the chains and secure the poles.

Slowly the picture faded and Maxime spoke again.

"So that's what is in store for you. A Welsh Green, a Swedish Shortsnout, a Hungarian Horntail, and a Chinese Fireball. Don't ask me which one I'd prefer in your place. They are all vicious enough, and their fire reaches an average six to seven metres."

"What - " I found it difficult to speak. "What will I have to do?"

"I don't know. I don't expect you'll have to fight and kill one, they are too rare for that and the Wizarding Wildlife Foundation won't allow it; so I think you'll have to steal something your dragon is guarding. This is what dragons usually do, you know."

"But how...?"

"This is something you'll have to find out for yourself. I'm already breaking rules telling you this here, and you know teachers are explicitly forbidden to help the champions with their tasks, and they are sure to find out if I did tell you any more. So this leaves you about two days to work out how to do this. Good night."

Good night! What a joke! I don't expect I'm going to sleep at all again.

+++

Afternoon

I did get an hour or two's sleep, but I can't say it was much use. I kept dreaming of those brutes and the fire they were breathing, and woke with a start several times. In the morning, I told Margaux and Iphigenie about the dragons. 

"Have you thought of anything yet?" Margaux asked, looking rather white. 

"Of course not!" I snapped at her irritably. "I'm sorry, it's just..."

"I know," she said soothingly. "Let's look at this systematically. What do we know about dragons?"

"They're heavily armoured with their scales and things," Iphigenie stated. " And it takes very strong spells to get to them. But I don't know ..."

"You know what?" I told them, "The first thing in a case like this is always getting your facts right; and the best place to do this is - "

"The library!" they both shouted, laughing.

So I had Maxime put that Inconspicua Charm on my hair again, and went over to the library with my two friends.

There were a couple of students there working over their books, and I at once noticed Harry Potter and Hermione Granger among them, deeply buried in a pile of books. 

"Dragons are extremely difficult to slay..." I heard Harry read out barely audibly as I was walking past.

It was all I could do not to whirl round and shout. I pulled my two friends away to another desk.

"Did you hear that?" I whispered excitedly. "He's reading about DRAGONS! HE KNOWS!"

"This may be just a coincidence," Margaux, always practical, said.

"No way!" Iphigenie contradicted fiercely. "Someone must have told him, too! I mean, what sort of a coincidence would that be?"

"So much for their strict keeping to rules! And I was starting to feel guilty for being the only one to know." 

"Do you think Diggory and Krum know, too? After all, you know that Harry Potter is different in many ways, perhaps he's the only one, and has found out about the dragons all by himself?" Margaux can be annoyingly reasonable sometimes.

"It's possible, I suppose. I wish I knew."

At that moment, Viktor Krum came slouching in in his typical moody way (though, to me, he looked even more moody than usual). He walked purposefully over to a certain shelf, picked a book and went over to a desk in a corner where he had obviously been working before as it was covered with a pile of boks.

"Sneak over to him," I told Iphigenie, "and try to see what he is reading about."

"All right," she replied and casually sauntered off, looking at odd books on the shelves. Actually, it was so perfectly casual that it looked highly suspicious, but luckily nobody seemed to notice.

Presently she returned.

"Dragons!", she hissed excitedly. "He's doing dragons, too! No stupid talk about coincidence now!"

"Seems they have invented a new rule that all the headmasters tell their champions what the task is going to be," I mused. "Funny, though, Maxime said she was breaking rules in telling me..."

"Never mind," again it was Margaux' reassuring common sense. "Each champion knows, that's the important thing."

"And I was getting worried about having an unfair advantage," I scolded myself. "I even wondered..." 

"Don't say you were considering telling the others!"

"I was indeed, - but they all know, anyway, so that's one thing less to worry about, which just leaves four big, fire-breathing dragons, what a relief! So let's just get on with our research."

+++

We spent the rest of the morning in the library, returning to our carriage for lunch.

The things we've found out about dragons are not too encouraging. Only very powerful spells of extremely advanced and specially trained wizards can penetrate the thick scales, usually it takes at least four of them to reach any lasting effect. The only soft spot of a dragon, if you can call it that, is his eyes. (There is, supposedly, another one on a dragon's belly, but it varies with the species, and is not easy to find, anyway, so I'm not considering even looking for it.) So I'll have to try and find some spell or curse that works on the beast's eyes, obviously, but I haven't got the slightest idea yet. Also, I'm quite exhausted after that sleepless night and the hours of reading. So I'm not going over to the castle for dinner, but have the house-elves prepare some small snack for me, and try to get some sleep early, although I very much doubt that I will.

A/N:

Lu, WickerBasket - Thanks a lot for reviewing. As you may have noted, I have taken up your ideas and made Fleur learn some more about Harry. If you'd like to hear more, I'll see what I can do. I've looked it up in the book, and I'm perfectly sure it never says anything about Fleur asking Cedric to the ball, the only thing we learn is that Ron saw her in conversation with him when HE (=Ron) asked her. And there is nothing about how she ended up with Roger Davies. So I have invented the things you've just read in this chapter, hope they are plausible enough. If there is anything I miss, like the thing of Ron and Harry not talking, please tell me. I'm trying to keep to canon as much as I can, but errors will happen. 

Hope you enjoyed it; I'm starting on the First Task right away, but I guess it's going to be a bit difficult and so might take some time.


	13. Chapter 13: The First Task

**Chapter 13 - The First Task**

Nov. 23rd, 1994

I did have a nightful of sleep, very contrary to my expectations. AND I know how to deal with that dragon! Here is how this revelation came to me:

After I had been tossing and turning on my bed for some time, Margaux, who couldn't sleep either, because of me, finally got fed up and came over to me.

"Before I kill you, stop that racket, and go to sleep!"

"Very funny," I replied. "What do you think I've been trying to do for the last couple of hours? Though, perhaps, the killing part might not be such a bad idea after all."

"Rubbish! I know exactly what you need." 

She murmured the lighting spell, and I sat up in my bed, blinking at her.

"So you can't go to sleep, eh? I don't say I blame you, really. But there's something we can do about this. I don't suppose you've heard about the Somnium Spell, have you?"

"Somnium? I don't think so. It's seventh year stuff, right?"

"True. It can backfire easily, and hit you yourself, that's why they reserve it for last year. But it works very well, and I think I'm rather good at it. So if you like me to help you get some sleep tonight, I'll give it a try..."

"Yes, by all means! What do I do?"

"It works by eye contact." She took her wand, and started waving it slowly in front of my face. "Just follow the movements with your eyes; focus on the wand ... easy ... somnium ... somnium..."

The next thing I remember was bright sunlight in my eyes. Margaux was standing next to my bed, grinning widely.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty. That worked like magic, didn't it?"

It took me a minute or two to realise I must have slept like a log for about eight hours.

"That was amazing!" I told her enthusiastically. How come I've never heard about that spell before? You'll have to - "

And it struck me.

"Do you think this works on dragons too?"

"What?" 

"The only weak spot of a dragon is their eyes, and that spell of yours works through the eyes, too. Do you think it would work?"

"Hmm, I've never heard of it being used on a dragon, but I suppose it might be an idea. Yes, I should say it's definitely an idea," she added after a pause.

"Will you teach me how to do it?"

"Yes of course. But let's have breakfast first."

+++

As we were not excused from regular lessons, we had to practise in the spare time between them. We skipped lunch and would also have skipped dinner, but Maxime would have nothing of it.

"You can't stay away from dinner just like this two evenings in a row, " she said impatiently. "And it's especially important that you go today. People might get the impression that you are making preparations, and you're not supposed to know anything to prepare for."

"What hypocrites!" I said to Iphigenie, as we trudged up to the castle. "Who do they think they are fooling? EVERYBODY knows, really!"

At the Ravenclaw table, Cho and Cedric looked at me with a weird expression.

"Which one would you prefer, Cedric?" I asked in a clumsy attempt at a joke.

His eyes went round. "Which one what?"

"Come. Which dragon, of course!"

Both their faces relaxed visibly.

"So Harry's been right," he said, "You do know. Why are you talking about it? It's supposed to be a secret."

"Don't be ridiculous. All the headmasters have told their respective champions, haven't they?"

He looked at me blankly.

"Headmasters? No, it was Harry - Harry told me. He said Maxime and Karkaroff had seen the dragons, and would tell you and Krum. And he said it was just fair I should know too."

Now it was my turn to look blank.

"You mean it's all unofficial?"

"Of course it is. You don't imagine Dumbledore bending the rules like that, do you? We were wondering what to say to you; you know, we couldn't know if Harry was really right..."

"I believed ... I mean, I wanted to talk to you about those dragons after Maxime had told me, I wanted things to be fair, you see, ... but then I found out Harry knew, and Krum knew... so I thought you also knew... so there was no need for me to ... you do believe me, don't you?" I ended somewhat lamely.

"Of course we do," Cho touched my arm reassuringly. "Can you tell us a bit more? Harry only said it was dragons."

"Maxime did an Imago Charm, so I even saw them. There are four different ones. A Hungarian Horntail, if I remember correctly, a Welsh Green, a Swedish one and a Chinese one; I forget what they are called exactly."

"A Chinese dragon?" Cho's eyes lit up. "A Fireball?"

"Yes, that's what Maxime said."

"Oh they are about the most beautiful kind of dragons! And very fierce!"

"What a relief!" Cedric said sarcastically. "I've always wanted to have my ass burned off by a _beautiful_ dragon."

"Do you have any plan how to deal with the beast?" Cho inquired. I must have frowned or something, because she hastily added: "No, I don't meant what you're going to do, really, that would hardly be fair, would it? Just have you thought of anything yet?"

"Actually, I have, but I'll have to do a lot of practising still. How about you, Cedric?"

"Well, I've got a rough idea, but I still need to work on it."

"Good luck, anyway. So you are saying Harry Potter found out about those dragons all by himself? How did he do it?"

"I've no idea. There are rumours, you know that he owns an invisibility cloak - "

"Really? How did he get it? They are very rare, aren't they?"

"Nobody knows. And mind you, it's just one of the many rumours about him, perhaps it's not even true."

"But it would fit in nicely with the other things you've told me about him. But even then, someone must have told him where to go and look for them."

"Very likely. Hey, he and his friends use to hang around with Hagrid a lot! And he's known to have a thing for the more vicious kind of creatures. Wouldn't be surprised if it was Hagrid who told him..."

"He did show them to Maxime, at any rate..."

"So why not tell Harry, too? And it would work just as well without the invisibility cloak."

"Doesn't matter, anyway, does it? It's a fair deal, finally, and that's what's important. Funny, isn't it, that if everyone cheats the same way, it's just the same as if there'd been no cheating at all?"

"Not quite," I replied, grinning. "It does make a difference whether you do or don't know what's in store for you."

"Although I'm not quite sure if that change is for the good," Cedric added wryly.

+++

Nov. 24th, 1994

10 a.m.

Only some four hours. I'd better write this down now, as long as I still can... And it will ease my mind, I suppose.

Margaux, Iphigenie and I practised the Somnium Charm until late into the night. In the beginning it took me up to ten minutes to put my partner to sleep, and Margaux was not happy about that.

"Dragons are much resistant to spells than humans," she said after I had woken her up with the help of a wet towel for the fourth or fifth time. "You need to do this in no less than thirty seconds on a human, to stand any chance against a dragon. With one of them, it'll probably still take ten minutes or more. Try again."

So I tried again, and again, and again, until, around two in the morning, she was satisfied.

"I think you've got it," she said, exhaustion in her voice. There's quite a good chance now that you get past the beast without any problem. Now go to sleep, and don't wake up until morning. - Somnium!"

+++

Maxime has cancelled our lessons for today, but I'm not sure whether this is a good idea. It gives me more time to think of those giant flame-throwing lizards...

Evening

I can't describe how I feel - elated and worn out, wide-awake and dead tired, with a sense of unreality as well. I could have that Charm put on me again, of course, but I want to write all this down and relive the most spectacular experience of my life.

Shortly after lunchtime, - not that I could eat anything, - I noticed that everything had turned strangely quiet in the carriage. Just as I was starting to wonder where everyone had gone, Maxime came up to me.

"It's time," she said with something almost like sympathy in her voice. "Let's go."

We walked across the grounds in silence and I believe she was almost as nervous as I was.

Only once she turned to me to ask if I had an idea how to deal with the dragon.

"Yes," I replied, hardly recognising my own voice. "That is, I hope it works."

She made no further comment and presently we turned an edge of the forest, finding a large tent in front of us, blocking any view of the dragons we might have had. From behind the tent, however, unmistakably, an occasional roar that must be the dragons could be heard.

"You are to wait here, together with the other champions," Maxime told me, shoving me towards the entrance of the tent. They will tell you all about the task in there. Oh, and good luck."

In a less tense situation I would have been surprised at the sound of her voice, but at the time I had different things to worry about. I nodded shortly, and entered.

Inside the tent, Viktor Krum was already standing in a corner in his usual surly manner, hardly glancing up when I entered. Cedric was also there, pacing up and down the length of the tent. He gave me a small nod but his face was rather tense.

I sat down on a small wooden stool in one of the corners, trying to compose myself but without much success. And when the entrance of the tent opposite the one I had entered by opened, I jumped. 

But it was only Bagman, the ministry official, beaming with his usual immature self-assurance.

"Well, well, well," he said jauntily. "Everyone eager for the first task? Let's see... Mr. Potter is still - "

He was interrupted by the other entrance opening and Harry Potter coming in.

"Harry! Good-oh!" Bagman shouted with an enthusiasm that seemed somewhat out of place. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home!"

Now the inside of that tent was about the last place anybody would make oneself at home in, to say nothing of the occasion we were all in, but the absurdity of his phrase never crossed his mind.

Now he held up a small sack of purple silk. "In this bag," he told us, " there are models of the thing you are going to face. And your task will be - to collect the golden egg!"

So the dragon was guarding a golden egg, just as Maxime had predicted, probably in a nest of its own eggs; and if anything, a nesting dragon was the one thing even more dangerous than a normal one! I looked at the others; Krum did not show any reaction at all, Cedric had gone slightly green, or so it seemed to me, whereas Harry was white as a sheet and was staring ahead of him with a forlorn expression. Again, it struck me how small and helpless he looked. I don't want to imagine what I must have looked like, I just realised I was trembling all over.

Suddenly, the noise of hundreds of feet approached and went past our tent, the spectators who were now flocking towards the scene; they were talking excitedly, joking, and in the best spirits. 

The noise hadn't quite died down, when Bagman opened his silk bag.

"Ladies first," he said to me in that annoying cheerful tone, holding the bag out to me.

I put in my hand and pulled out a tiny model of the Welsh Green. It must have been nerves, of course, but I had the distinct impression that there was a malevolent glint in its eyes as it hissed at me and a tiny flame came out of its mouth as it sat there on my hand. There was the number two round its neck. At least I'd not have to wait too long.

Krum drew the scarlet Chinese Fireball with number three, Cedric got the Swedish dragon with number one, and finally Harry pulled out the last one, the Horntail, numbered four. So the youngest champion had got the fiercest of the dragons.

"When you hear the whistle, just go out into the enclosure," Bagman said. "Mr. Diggory, you're first... "

He then left the tent, and told Harry to come with him.

A minute or two later, the whistle sounded, and Cedric, still somewhat green in the face, stopped his pacing and left the tent. A moment later, Harry came back inside.

There was a roar from the crowd, screams and yells. The most terrible thing was that there was no way to know what was going on outside. Unable to bear the tension any more, I got up from my stool and took up Cedric's pacing, round and round the tent. Snatches of Bagman's commentary made it even worse. Words like "narrow miss!" or "he's taking risks!" or "Clever move - pity it didn't work!" did not ease the tension either.

It can't have been longer than ten or fifteen minutes, but it seemed endless. Then finally, a tremendous roar from the crowd signalled that Cedric must have reached his aim and grabbed the golden egg.

There was comparative silence for a couple of minutes, while the judges seemed to be giving their marks, but all too soon the whistle sounded again, and Bagman shouted:

"Miss Delacour, if you please!"

Holding my head high, or as high as I managed, and generally trying to look more confident than I felt, I stepped out of the tent.

Stands, occupied by hundreds of spectators formed a semi-circle in front of me, a sea of faces that were no more than a blur. An excited hum was in the air.

And at the far end of the enclosure, perhaps fifty metres away, it was waiting - the dragon! Although I had seen it in the picture Maxime had conjured up, the real thing was very different. The sheer size of the beast took my breath away for a moment. A compact mass of power and fury, - yet strangely beautiful with the shiny green scales glittering in the pale afternoon sun.

Holding on tight to my wand I slowly advanced toward the dragon. The bright yellow eyes in the huge lizard-like head were fixed on me unblinkingly, and it was all I could do not to turn and make a desperate dash back to the tent. As I was coming nearer, I saw that there was a nest of several grey-green eggs behind the dragon, and presently I could see the golden egg shining among them.

When the distance to the dragon was only some twenty metres, I started waving my wand the way Margaux had shown me. At first the beast showed no reaction at all, until I realised that my movements were probably too small. So I started waving in a way that must have looked perfectly ridiculous, a full arm's length to the right and to the left, and high above my head. All the while, I kept saying the spell: "Somnium - somnium..."

Just as I was nearing the critical distance within which a sudden spurt of flames would have reached me, the dragon, whose head had been shifting irritably al the time, unsure whether to leave the eggs and to pounce on me (luckily, it seemed to have decided that the eggs were more important), started getting quiet, and after a minute or two more, the gigantic head drooped, its eyes closed and it was asleep.

With a sigh of relief, I rushed forward, towards the nest. That was a mistake; I had diverted my attention from the sleeping creature for a moment, and so the gust of flame that suddenly came out of its mouth completely took me by surprise. I could just make a desperate dive out of the way, but the hem of my robes caught fire. There was a collective scream from the spectators, and for a split second I felt petrified with shock. But then I found my wits again.

"Pluvius!" I shouted and extinguished the fire with a shower of water from my wand.

Not knowing how deep the dragon was sleeping, and not keen on finding out, I made a final dash forward and could grab the golden egg.

Not a moment too soon. While the audience broke into applause, I saw the dragon stirring, and clutching the egg firmly, I sprinted across the enclosure, and with smoking robes reached safety, just as the beast, fully awake again, let out a deafening roar and sent an enormous stream of fire in my direction.

While the dragon-tamers subdued the Welch Green with their Stunning Spells, and finally took it away, I sat down on a bench next to a second tent; I found myself shaking from head to foot, more so than I had in the tent, and it was quite some job to get back my composure.

A middle-aged witch in white robes came bustling up to me out of the tent.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "Let me have a short look at you - "

"Yes, I'm ok," I panted. "Thank you, I'm just catching my breath. Is Cedric Diggory all right?"

"He's got a nasty burn, but nothing I cannot fix. Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"Yes, thank you very much, I'm fine."

When 'my' dragon had finally been removed, I could see the judges sitting on golden seats at the other end of the enclosure.

"Watch out," the nurse said. "They're giving their marks."

And indeed, from their raised wands I could see numbers floating up into the air.

Maxime - ten 

Crouch - nine

Dumbledore - nine 

Bagman - five 

Karkaroff - four 

Which makes it a total of 37.

Now the Chinese Fireball was brought into the enclosure, the whistle went again, and Viktor Krum came slouching out of the tent. His face was quite expressionless, perhaps a bit whiter than usual. He went slowly up to the dragon, which was watching him intently, an occasional cloud of smoke coming out of its nostrils. Suddenly, with a movement so quick that I didn't even see it before it was already over, Krum had whipped out his wand and shouted a spell that I couldn't hear, sending a flash of purple sparks at the dragon's eye. The dragon gave a horrible piercing shriek, - the spell must have hurt its eye badly, - and began trampling around in obvious agony, not minding where it was going, and smashing several of its eggs in the process. With the same amazing swiftness, Krum darted towards the golden egg, several times only very narrowly escaping being squashed to pulp by the madly moving beast. I'd never have expected anyone to be able to move so fast; and in another minute or two he had grabbed the golden egg and returned to safety.

Again, the dragon and the remaining eggs were taken away, and the judges gave their marks. Unsurprisingly, Karkaroff gave his own champion the maximum of ten points, and his total came up to forty.

The last dragon, the Horntail, was brought into the enclosure, the whistle went one more time, and Harry Potter stepped out of the tent.

He looked very small and very vulnerable standing there in the enclosure, facing the gigantic Horntail, and I was holding my breath, waiting to see what he was going to do.

He raised his wand, shouting something that I couldn't hear in the noise of the crowd, and then kept standing there motionless, waiting.

Suddenly, a shadowy streak was hurtling through the air and - a broom came to a standstill in mid-air next to him. As if waking from a trance, Harry took hold of the handle, mounted, and kicked off.

It was amazing. The small-terrified boy had gone; the flyer on the broom was an altogether different person! As if he had never done anything else, he was steering the broom high up into the air and towards the waiting dragon. The Horntail's head followed him, and a great gust of flame soared up to the place where the tiny speck of the flyer had been only a second before. Another dive - another narrowly missed spurt of fire, - the Horntail's spiked tail was swishing through the air madly, from where I was sitting, I couldn't be sure, but it seemed as if it had hit the flyer's shoulder, - the crowd screamed, -

Harry changed tactics now. He started circling higher and higher, the dragon following his every move with its eyes, and irritated furling and unfurling its wings. I knew what he was trying to do: He wanted the dragon to rise into the air to go after him. Being much swifter on his broom than the creature, it would not be too hard for him to get at the egg once the dragon had left the ground.

More flames shooting into the air, easily dodged by the flyer on his broom; if I hadn't known how serious it was, I'd almost have thought Harry was enjoying the game he was playing with the dragon, which now, finally, with an exasperated shriek, spread its huge wings wide and rose into the air.

In a spectacular dive, Harry Potter shot down towards the nest of eggs, at an absolutely incredible speed. Just when it seemed sure he was going to crash into the eggs, he pulled out of the dive, and taking off both hands from the broom handle, seized the golden egg. And before the dragon had even realised what was going on, he had shot off out of the enclosure and finally landed in safety.

Several of the Hogwarts professors were hurrying towards him, and he was taken to the first-aid tent next to where I was sitting. There was a dazed look on his face, as if he had not quite realised what had happened, and he had a cut on his shoulder with blood oozing through. Quickly, the nurse pulled him into the tent.

Soon afterwards, Harry's two friends, Ron, the red-haired git (as I like to call him by myself) and the bushy-haired girl with the death glare, Hermione, rushed into the tent, too. And, funny enough, I felt suddenly lonely. Nobody was coming to see how I was; nobody seemed to care whether I was alive or dead. And I found myself envying The-Boy-Who-Lived for the first time. (Of course I've found out in the meantime that Margaux and Iphigenie were stuck somewhere among the spectators, with no chance to get over to me, but that's how I felt then.) 

A few minutes later, the girl, Hermione, came rushing out of the tent again, dissolved in tears. I still have no idea what was the matter with her. From the way she normally behaves, I'd have thought she was the last person to get hysterics.

Shortly after this, Harry emerged from the tent, carrying his broom over his shoulder and the golden egg in his other hand; Ron was at his side, talking fast, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. Probably he was telling Harry what had happened to the other champions.

In due course, the judges started to give their marks for Harry's performance:

Maxime - eight 

Crouch - nine

Dumbledore - nine

Bagman - ten

Karkaroff - four

Which gives Harry a total of forty, thus tying him for fist place with Viktor Krum.

After these last marks had been given, we were ushered back into the tent again, where I saw Cedric again for the first time since he had left the tent to face his dragon. One side of his face was covered in some orange stuff, so I guessed he had been injured. However, he was grinning widely, and seemed to be perfectly happy with himself.

Bagman appeared in the tent a second later, and told us that the second task is going to take place at half past nine in the morning of February the twenty-fourth (they do have a thing about that twenty-fourth!) and that the golden eggs contain a clue that we need to solve to be able to do that task.

+++

At dinner, the atmosphere was tangibly relaxed. Cedric, Cho and I discussed the judges and the marks they had given.

"It's all right, I suppose, for a headmaster to favour their own champion, " Cedric said thoughtfully. "But Karkaroff was overdoing it shamelessly. Ten points for Krum, and a lousy four for all the others! How low can you sink?"

"I think Bagman was also somewhat strange," I added. "He gave Harry ten, even though he got hurt, and he only gave you - what was it?"

"Seven."

"See? Krum and I only got five, and we did not get hurt, but I suppose you could attribute this to him being biased against the foreign champions. But if he is just (very clumsily) trying to favour Hogwarts, why didn't he give you ten as well, or nine at least?"

"Perhaps he's in love with Harry," Cho said with a smirk.

"Poor Harry; he deserves better."

+++

Back in the carriage, I had, of course, to show the golden egg around.

"Open it!" Iphigenie insisted. "Let's look for the clue!"

After some attempts, I finally succeeded. It was perfectly empty, but the moment I opened it, the most terrible noise I ever hope to hear filled the room. It is an awful screeching and wailing that had a ghostly air and does not bear the slightest resemblance to any words in any language that I have ever heard of. I closed the egg hastily, and the noise stopped.

"What's that?" Margaux asked breathlessly. Nobody said anything.

"If that's supposed to be a clue, it will take some time to work it out," Armand said.

"That's why we have got three months to do it," I told them. "And that's why I'm not going to give it any more thoughts right now. If you'll excuse me, I feel a bit tired..."

+++

I suppose I can be quite satisfied with today's work. True, I'm last with my thirty-seven points, due to that nasty cheater Karkaroff, but that's still only three points less than Harry's and Krum's forty. So I guess there is still a chance for me... Funny, if anyone had told me that only twelve hours ago, I'd have thought they must be mad, and now -

+++

A/N:

Wow, what a long chapter! Tanks for reading

Thanks also to my faithful reviewers

Lu - Roger "was stunned by his good fortune" at having Fleur as his partner, and he was wearing a "dazed look", so your "block of wood theory" doesn't seem to apply. It's more like he's busy with other thoughts and images in his mind, and I'll see that I can use some of these. Thank you a lot for the long notes and suggestions. As you will have seen, I have already taken up some. Of course I know Zimmeron's great Hermione story; unfortunately he seems to have stopped writing; and perhaps the greatest of all are Arabella's four parts of Hermione's diary. About the title: AGED 16 34 is supposed to be 16 3/4, (with Sue Townsend's Adrian Mole diaries in mind) but for some reason the stupid computer programme has made it 16 34. I did try to change it but it didn't work. There's no way I'd try to describe Fleur's career up to the age of 34! Yes, F/H does have its appeal, and indeed this is what I'm secretly aiming at. There are terribly few Fics of this kind around, and most of them are absolutely out of character, too. The point is, of course, to make it plausible how the two of them can get together, and most fics just ignore it. PS: It would be great if you could give me your email address, I'd love to talk to you directly. PPS: Yes, I know you are not WickerBasket; it was just that the two of you came up with similar ideas.

Molassesturtle, DonutMan – Thank you. 

WickerB – Thanks for the suggestions. Canary Creams on Veelas! The can turn into birds anyway – so how would that work out???


	14. Chapter 14: Unexpected Developments

****

Chapter 14 - Unexpected Developments

Nov. 25th, 1994

It's a normal weekday again - Wednesday - and lessons and things are taking their normal course again. In the lunch break, I wrote a long letter home to tell everybody about the First Task. Gabie, at least, will be happy and proud of her big sister, and that's really all that matters, but I can just see Maman's frown hearing I'm last. "Are you sure you tried hard enough?" is sure to be in her next letter. However, I've grabbed the occasion, as she will be in quite an agreeable mood (as far as 'agreeable' can ever be a quality of my mother's), to ask her to send my CdF. I really miss the occasional flight, and these old school brooms here are rather a nuisance. If she hurries, my faithful broom should be here within a couple of days.

Funny how such a competition can influence your mind. When the Tournament was first announced, it was only reluctantly that I put up my name at all, just because I knew my mother would expect me to, and I was very confident I wouldn't even make it to the shortlist; then, being one of the chosen few, I secretly hoped I would not be champion, and now that I'm in the middle of the Tournament, I'm really prepared to do my best to actually WIN, too.

Not that it will be easy. I've been dreaming of Harry Potter tonight, saw him doing this amazing flying feat round the Horntail again. Anybody trying to win against HIM will have a hard time indeed.

+++

After dinner, I went up to Cedric.

"There's something I'd like to discuss with you," I said, taking him aside. "I think we really need to talk about that egg."

"Good idea. I was going to suggest something like this myself. What's on your mind?"

"Well, this is supposed to be a competition, so we can't work together on that clue thing very well."

"That's right, each of us wants to win, don't we?" He grinned.

"Yes. And I'm amazed at myself, really. So what I wanted to say: Let's each try to work out the clue, whatever it may be, without expecting or asking help from the other. Do you think we can agree on this and still be friends?"

"This is more or less what I had in mind," he gave me a reassuring smile. "Unless one gets told by someone else, or finds out by a stupid coincidence... "

"Which would make it unfair on the other," I finished. "So if, for example, Maxime tells me something she shouldn't, I'll tell you, too, but otherwise each of us will just conduct their own research. Right?"

"Good girl. Let's shake hands on it."

+++

I'm relieved a good deal, the prospect of losing Cedric's and Cho's friendship because of a stupid competition really worried me. It's about the first time I have someone be my friends without any ulterior motive. At the weekend, we'll start the testing of the egg; Margaux and Iphigenie have promised to help me.

Nov. 28th, 1994

"It's almost as if it was a dragon's egg," Margaux said. "So why not try putting it in the fire for some time, and see what happens?"

"I don't know," I replied. "What if the fire damages it?"

"We all must take risks from time to time," Iphigenie told me in a firm voice that I only rarely hear from her. "Besides, it's unlikely. They must expect the champions to try all sorts of things, so I'm pretty sure that egg can't be damaged easily."

A horrible wailing sound from the castle interrupted her.

"See?" she grinned at me. "They are at work over there. So let's get started."

Margaux conjured a fire up in the grate of our common room, and with another spell I deposited the golden egg in it.

"Now what?" I asked a bit nervously.

"Wait and watch," Margaux said calmly. "Watch the egg and look out for any changes."

After about ten minutes, nothing had changed in the appearance of the egg. At any rate, the heat didn't seem to affect it at all, which was some relief.

"Perhaps we should open it," I suggested. "Even if the sound makes us sick."

"Why not? Alohomora!"

The lid of the egg sprang open, and the awful noise jumped at us. Only this time it sounded distinctly like derisive laughter.

"Clausum!" I shouted quickly, and the lid closed again. "Obviously this is not the right way. Let's finish for today, we've got lots of time left."

Dec. 2nd, 1994

Nothing new; I spend most of my spare time in the library, reading up on eggs of all sorts, but there is nothing useful. There are certain creatures that lay golden eggs (the basilisk is one of the more disgusting ones), but there is nothing whatsoever about eggs that can be opened and emit horrible noises. 

Also, we keep getting much homework, too, so there is not as much time as I'd like. On Saturday, we'll continue our testing.

Dec. 4th, 1994

My broom has arrived at last! I'm going to take it for a ride round the castle grounds tomorrow.

Dec. 5th, 1994

Nothing new about the egg; but something else happened today that I find somewhat irritating. This is how it was:

The day started bright and sunny, and not too cold for this time of the year. (At least this is what I've been told, it still seems perfectly freezing to me.) So I decided to go for a ride on my CdF right after lunch.

"What about the egg?" Margaux asked reproachfully.

"Oh bother the egg," I replied impatiently. "We can always deal with that later. We've got over two months, haven't we?"

"I'll tell you what you can do," Iphigenie was calm and logical as always. "Why not take the stupid egg with you up into the air? I mean, there can't be any harm in trying the four elements on it. We've tried fire already, so why not air as another approach? And we can always try earth and water later if this doesn't work."

"Great idea." And even if it didn't work, which I rather expected, it still gave me a fine pretext to go flying.

So I took the egg and put it in my backpack, which I shouldered.

"Wait a moment," Iphigenie said. "You'll need to open the egg while flying. How are you going to do that if you have it in that bag?"

"You're right, of course. Hm - yes - I'll wrap it in this shawl and sling it round my stomach. So I can get at it easily."

It was quite uncomfortable, as this egg is a good deal heavier than it looks, but I finally managed to tie the shawl securely around my middle.

"You look like seven months pregnant," Margaux giggled after I had put on my warmest cloak and was clumsily descending the steps from the carriage. "And with triplets."

I told her to shut up, grabbed my broom and kicked off. 

The familiar intoxicating feeling of weightlessness and freedom was there again, I forgot the cold and the heavy egg round my middle, as I soared up into the pale blue sky. Circling the turrets of the castle, I slowly rose until the grounds were far below me, and the blue Beauxbatons carriage was no bigger than a child's toy. 

I kept enjoying the speed and the wind rushing at my face and tearing at my hair for some time. Then, using the Hover Charm to steady my broom, I started fumbling with the egg in the shawl. Only now I noticed how cold and stiff my fingers were, which made it quite difficult to get a secure grip at the egg, which, in its own turn, was quite cold and slippery to the touch. And just as I had got it out from the folds of the shawl, my fingers slipped and the thing dropped!

With an exclamation of anger I forced my broom into an almost perpendicular dive, but already I could see no sign of the egg. Frustrated, I broke the dive and started to cruise around, completely at a loss what to do. 

"You've messed this one up thoroughly," I told myself. "What can I do now?"

While I was still reproaching myself, there was suddenly a voice next to me:

"I believe this is yours?"

The shock almost made me fall off my broom. A hand grasped my shoulder in a strong grip. "Steady," the voice said quietly.

Only now did I turn my head to look at the speaker., and looked straight into a pair of brilliant green eyes - Harry Potter!

"You should be more careful with this," he said, grinning at me widely, and offering me the egg. "Oh sorry," he went on and took his hand off my shoulder. "You're ok now, aren't you?"

I could only nod dumbly. Not even at this close distance did he show any of the usual effects of the Veela charm, no embarrassed stammering, no blushing, no stupid showing off, only a friendly, open smile.

"Here, take the stupid thing," he said, offering me the egg again. "I know it's no business of mine, but I wonder what you're up to, taking this heavy thing for a ride on your broom? Which is a very good broom, from what I've seen you doing with it."

I found my voice at last.

"Thank you," I said, still a bit shakily, taking the egg from him and stowing it away in he shawl. "I just wanted to go flying for a bit, and my friends insisted that I take this thing with me; they said perhaps I'd have an inspiration. And yes, I suppose this is quite a good broom."

"And have you had any inspiration yet? I mean," he added hastily, "I'm not asking you to tell me anything, after all, we are supposed to be competitors."

"Some competitor! If it hadn't been for you, I'd probably be out of the competition already, losing the egg in this clumsy way. But there's nothing at all that I know about it. Which reminds me - " I reached for the egg again, "I was just going to open it when I dropped it and you so chivalrously restored it to me. It's amazing - you are the very best flyer I have ever seen!"

"Come, there are sure to be loads of people far better than me, Krum, for example. Anyway, you were going to open it; shall I leave you to do it without me spying?"

"No, stay here, please. If it gives any hint at all, you deserve to be there, too. However, I have a feeling it won't, anyway. And if I drop it again, it might be a good idea to have such an excellent seeker present."

So I opened the egg and as I had expected, there was the same horrible derisive laugh that it had emitted in the fire.

"Exactly what I thought," I muttered and now put the annoying egg away for good. 

"Oh forget the bloody thing," Harry told me. "There's still loads of time to work it out. Why not enjoy yourself? Care for some rounds together?"

I complied, and we circled the towers and turrets a couple of times, Harry practising various stunning tricks, with me trying to follow him as best as I could. 

Finally, flushed and somewhat out of breath, I landed next to Quidditch pitch, Harry next to me.

"I've not had so much fun for a long time," I told him. "Thank you so much, Harry. For everything." 

"Everything? I just caught that stupid old egg for you. It's not such a big thing!"

"There's more to it than you imagine. Perhaps I'll tell you some time. I do hope we can do this again."

I extended my hand and when he took it, I felt myself blushing. I, Fleur Delacour, quarter -Veela, blushed shaking hands with a fourteen-year-old boy!

"Yes, let's. You're quite a talented flyer yourself, perhaps I can show you a few tricks. What position do you play in your Quidditch team?"

"I don't play Quidditch. I hate sports where you have winners and losers. Why can't one just enjoy a thing like flying simply because it's a great feeling? Do you really have to throw those bludgers all over the place? - I'm sorry, I expect you love Quidditch..."

"Yes I do. But I dare say you have a very good point here. Especially if you play against a less than fair team... And what you say about flying being a great feeling is absolutely right. Well, I believe I must get going. I do hope Ron doesn't find out about this, he'd be so jealous again..."

"Jealous? That red-haired friend of yours, isn't it? Why would he be jealous?"

"Oh, it's a long story. He was jealous when my name came out of that goblet, thought I had been cheating, and he only came to his senses when he saw those dragons... "

"But why, in Morgaine's name?"

"He'd like to be famous, I suppose; you see, he's the youngest of six brothers. He'd want to do something spectacular, I think... Anyway, you may have noticed how he behaves whenever he looks at you..."

"I have indeed," I laughed. "Who could possibly not notice? So you think he'd have a fit or something if he saw you talking to me?"

"I'm sure he would, I mean – just look at you …" he stopped abruptly, then continued. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that; I can imagine you hear this sort of thing so often you can't stand it any more. See you around! And good luck with the egg!"

And he kicked his broom off the ground and disappeared in the direction of the castle.

+++

Margaux was shocked when she heard how I had almost lost the egg.

"How could you?" she exclaimed. What an amazing piece of luck, too! I can hardly believe it! But tell me, what's he like?"

"What do you mean? He's nice, of course; after all, he rescued the egg for me. But you can hardly expect me to know much about him after talking to him for a few minutes."

"Come, there must be a bit more than that," Iphigenie eyed me shrewdly. "I mean, for one thing, he seems to be immune to that Veela charm in your hair… Oh, I do believe you're blushing!"

"Nonsense," I said, rather crossly. "I don't know what gives you such stupid ideas… He's very nice, that's right, and he is an extraordinary person, but that's it, really. He's only fourteen, remember?"

"All right, all right. Keep your hair on; I was only joking." But I don't think she was quite convinced.

+++

Now that I've finished writing this I find that I'm not convinced myself. All I know is that I've never felt like this about anybody before. Like this? Like what? I don't know. But I still see those green eyes looking straight into mine… 

I really must pull myself together. There are things to be done, and a clue to be found. I can't allow myself to get irritated so easily. 

Dec. 6th, 1994

When I told Cho about my encounter with Harry, she wasn't too surprised.

"He IS the best Seeker Hogwarts has had for many years," she said. "And about being immune to that charm - I don't suppose this is much ofa surprise, either. Do you know - they say Professor Moody put the Imperius Curse on him in one of his lessons -"

"No!"

"Yes, he did. And Harry resisted it!"

"He what? Resisted Imperius? I didn't even know this could be done! And he's only in his fourth year!"

"You see? So it's no wonder he isn't bothered by a stupid Veela charm - no offence meant."

"Don't bother, I've always thought of it like that."

+++

Really, the more I learn about him, the more fascinated I am. There's no guessing what else he might be able to do.

Dec 10th, 1994

At lunch, Maxime announced that there is what they call the Yule Ball on Christmas Day, starting at eight in the evening.

"Each champion must attend with a partner." She said in her best authoritarian manner. You'll have to do the opening dance."

I'm not too happy about the whole thing. But with the use of the Coma obscurata spell I should be fine enough. It might even be some fun, I do like dancing. Wonder what music they are goingtohave.

+++

Roger Davies has asked me to the ball, and I have accepted. I've been getting on with him quite nicely, so I suppose it will be all right. To be honest, a part of me had secretly hoped, Harry would ask me, and I almost turned Roger down. But how should he ever even get the idea to askme? I expect he'll go with that brown-haired girl who is always with him, Harmony, or whatever her name is. Not that my mother wouldn't appreciate it if I opened a ball with Harry Potter... I'd never have expected that there might be something I could agree on with her.

Dec. 12th, 1994

First success with the egg! That cheating scum Karkaroff! If it hadn't been for this tiny piece of luck- but I'd better start from the beginning:

Although I'd have preferred going for a spin on my broom again (and perhaps come across Harry), Margaux and Iphigenie persuaded me to go for a walk round the lake with them. 

"But I'm not taking the stupid egg along this time!" I insisted.

"Why not? You might try throwing it in the water for a change! Let's see who brings it back to you this time!Hey, I'm only joking!"

Now, looking back, I can't believe how close we were. But back to the story:

We put on our warm cloaks, - although the weather is still sunny it's getting colder every day- and went out and down to the lake, chatting about the usual meaningless things, the impending ball being the most important topic, though.

I still can't say exactly what made us stop near a group of bushes near the palce where the Durmstrang ship was at anchor, black and sinister against the pale blue sky.

"What can he be up to?" Margaux whispered in surprise, pointing at a figure in swimming trunks making ready to jump into the lake from the ship. It was Viktor Krum. Karkaroff was standing next to him, wearing thick robes.

"Just imagine - the water can't be muchabove freezing point!" Iphigenie shudddered under her cloak.

"Well, everyone will have their hobbies," I said, but then I noticed something shining golden in Karkaroff's hands. "Wait! I do believe - yes, that's the egg!"

"Let's see what they are doing!" Margaux whispered excitedly. "Aren't headmasters supposed not to help their champions?"

"No surprise here," I replied. "Just what you can expect from this lot."

Krum had already jumped into the lake and was now treading water. Karkaroff was shouting something down to him, but he was speaking in what must have been Bulgarian, so the only word I could understand was "Mermish". Then, with a sweeping gesture, he threw the egg down to Krum, who caught it neatly, and disappeared under the surface with it.

"Mermish!" Iphigenie exclaimed. "Of course! The language of the mer-people! You can only understand it if spoken under water."

"The stinking cheating ..." Margaux began, but we shut her up.

"We ought to be grateful to him, rather," I grinned. "Without him, we might never have found out! Let's get back and try our egg, too!"

"You're not going to jump in the lake, are you?" 

"No way. I'll take a nice warm bath back in our carriage - it's also water, isn't it?"

+++

The bathing session was very relaxing, to be sure, I am not much wiser now, I must admit.

The first part was easy enough, just a matter of holding your breath long enough to hear these verses under water:

__

Come hear us where our voices sound,

we cannot sing above the ground,

and while you're searching, ponder this:

We've taken what you'll sorely miss.

An hour long you'll have to look,

and to recover what we took,

but past an hour - the prospect's black.

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.

Margaux and Iphigenie both had a go at the egg, too, and we all more or less agree on the meaning of the verses.

"It's Mermish", Iphigenie reflected. "So the people taking are mer-people. Possibly they live in the lake."

"So much seems clear enough," Margaux went on. "And apparently they have taken something that you have to get back, and you have an hour's time to do it."

"And, to make sense, this hour must start on the twenty-fourth February, at 9.30, when the Second Task is starting." I finished their reasoning. "So the only thing I don't know is what that thing is that I have to find."

"Apart from the small question," Margaux grinned wickedly, "how to survive under water for an hour. But no doubt we'll figure out thisone too."

+++

At dinenr in the evening, I said to Cedric, "Remember what we agreed on about the clue of the egg? Have you found out anything yet?"

"No, I haven't. To be honest, I've been trying to ignore it as best as I can. I mean, there's no point in messing up your Christmas with it, is there?"

"Well, I just wanted to tell you this: I've seen Karkaroff telling Krum how to go about it, and it's only fair you should know, too. Take the stupid egg into the bath with you and see, or rather listen what happens."

He looked at me in surprise. "A bath?"

"Yes. Unless you prefer jumping into the lake with it as Krum did. And - yes - tell Harry, too, will you? After all, I owe him for saving that egg for me in the first place. But don't tell him I told you." I added as an afterthought, and I believe I blushed when I said it.

+++

Well, a big step forward, at any rate, and I think I will follow Cedic's example and put the stupid egg out of my mind until after the ball. Ireally don't think it can be too difficult to find some spell or other to enable me to survive under water. If only I had an idea WHAt I'll have to look for!

A/N:

Thioshas been a bit difficult to do, as it is the first episode that really has not the slightest support in canon. But otoh I trust it doesn't contradict anythin, either. (If there should be, please point it out to me.) Next part, Yule Ball is on the way.

Lu - Where are you? After your valuable comments, I've been mising your review on the last chapter!

Wicked (sorry - Wicker) Basket - Thanks for your encouragement. I must disappoint you: It's not that I have succumbed to your iron will, I've been planning this for some time, but I hope you'll enjoy it, anyway.


	15. Chapter 15: The Yule Ball

A/N: New chapter is here! I've been very careful to follow the events as they are described in GoF as closely as possible and hope I have not made any major mistake. If you find one, point it out to me, please. Thanks to WickerBasket for the lyrics that she invented for Peeves, as well as the other valuable pieces of advice and other ideas. Well, here goes – the Yule Ball turns out as a less than pleasant experience for poor Fleur: Chapter 15 The Yule Ball 

Dec. 15th, 1994

The Christmas decorations have already been put up in the castle. They are nothing like the sophisticated ones we have at Beauxbatons, but they are quite nice in a simple and old-fashioned way. And the never-melting icicles on the banisters are really a nuisance, as they are icy cold to the touch. I wonder why nobody has thought of a spell to make them feel warm. The twelve enormous Christmas trees in the Great Hall are quite a sight however, although the constant hooting of the golden owls that are in them can get on your nerves. Some of the suits of armour have been bewitched to sing Christmas songs, but again, in this weird way they seem to have all round Hogwarts, none of them is able to really sing the complete text. Maxime would never tolerate anything like this. Another thing she would definitely not put up with is that awful poltergeist. He thinks it is great fun to hide inside a suit of armour and sing new stanzas to the old traditional songs. My English is not good enough to understand most of it, but from the expression of the caretaker, whom I watched extract the poltergeist from one of those armours, I could guess that it was perhaps not on the _calm and bright note. (Considering that the caretaker himself is not the most refined person, those words must have been absolutely disgusting.) I really don't understand why they allow him to stay. Only yesterday I was just passing one of those armours, when a croaking voice blurted out:_

_They came upon a midnight clear, _

_Those fathead dullards of old,_

_The angels retched in clear disgust_

_All over harps of gold._

Followed by the typical cackling laughter. Before he could go on, though, one of the teachers, the severe-looking elderly witch that seems to be second in command here, threw a spell at him and he zoomed out of the armour and straight through the wall. (I'm not sure what _dullards _are, but I expect it's not a very nice word.)

I have successfully persuaded my friends not to do any research about underwater survival until New Year, although Iphigenie was not really happy about it. I mean it can't be that hard to find something. Many people have been doing it before, even Muggles can, or so I've heard.

Dec. 16th, 1994

Something funny happened today: Harry's friend, the Red-haired Moron, as I keep calling him to myself, asked me to go to the ball with him! I was standing in a corridor talking to Cedric, when, completely out of the blue, he was suddenly standing there, goggling at me in that half-witted way he always has when he's near me, and gurgling out a very unclear sound, of which I could, at any rate, make out the words "ball" and "with me".

I was absolutely speechless, and I must have looked at him in a very surprised way. I mean, he's never said a word to me before (apart from the idiotic sentence about the bouillabaisse), and has the nerve to ask me to the ball! Anyway, the look I gave him must have been less than encouraging because he went redder than his hair and literally fled down the corridor.

"Another secret admirer," Cedric grinned.

"And frightened of his own courage," I added, giggling.

Looking back, it is perhaps a bit unkind; it seems the poor boy is especially susceptible to the Veela charm, and so I should probably not be too hard on him, but his expression was absolutely hilarious, nevertheless.

Dec. 17th, 1994

"Do you know what?" Cho told me this evening at dinner. "Harry asked me to go to the ball with him!"

"He what?" 

"Yes, you heard me. He was sweet, really, went all red and stammered in an absolutely incomprehensible way, so I had to ask him to say it again. Of course I told him I was sorry, I was going with Cedric. But if I didn't have Cedric… I don't know, he was very cute… He looked so disappointed…"

Funny, I always expected he'd go with that girl he keeps hanging around with, the one the _Daily Prophet wrote about. And now he's asked Cho? I don't know why, exactly, but I have to admit to myself that this bothers me. Especially as the symptoms don't seem much different from Ron's when he asked me…_

Dec. 18th, 1994

It's been snowing heavily for the last two days, and there is already a thick layer of snow in the grounds. We have to walk up to the castle in tunnel-like paths, it's bitterly cold, and the daylight period is awfully short. The castle's house-elves are only cooking typical English stuff, heavy stews, fat puddings and pies filled with things I don't even want to know about. I don't know why they have stopped doing at least one or two French dishes like they used to in the beginning of our stay. 

Yesterday, I must have eaten something that didn't agree with me, and I've felt slightly sick all day long. I said something about it to Cedric in the corridor, and noticed Harry's friend, the bushy-haired girl, whose name I seem unable to remember, giving me one of her looks of deepest loathing that she seems to reserve for me. I'd really like to know why she hates me so much. 

Wonder who Harry is going to take the Ball. 

Dec. 24th, 1994

In contrast to the British custom, we have celebrated Christmas this evening. There is a tree in the middle of our common room, not nearly as big as the ones up in the castle, of course, but beautifully decorated in blue and gold, the Beauxbatons colours. Maxime had our own house-elves make a gorgeous French dinner, and we were even allowed one glass of Bordeaux Grand Cru. She was, for her, in an almost sentimental mood.

"I know it's hard to be away from home at this time of year," she told us. "And you would all love to be at home with your families- " (I am actually in two minds about this: On the one hand, I'd really love to see Gabrielle again, but on the other, I can do quite well without my mother.) "But we have to stay for the ball, of course. It only takes place together with a Tournament, and therefore it is a social event of a lifetime that is not to be missed, as nobody knows when or if the next Tournament will be. I am sure you will put up with this inconvenience, and I hope you will enjoy the ball tomorrow."

I got a very sweet present from my little sister, a pair of woollen gloves that she has (with the help of her tutor, I expect) treated with a warming charm. "So you won't have cold hands when flying anymore," her photograph that came with the parcel told me. I really appreciate this present. Doing any permanent spell is very difficult for a small child like her.

My mother must be in an exceptionally good mood (even though she wasn't too happy sending me my broom), she has given me a most remarkable gift: A beautiful moonstone, exactly the colour of my eyes, on a delicate silver chain. "For my beloved daughter, to look her very best at her first ball," the picture said. It wouldn't be my mother if she hadn't managed to put in this admonishing tone even into a Christmas card.

Margaux, Iphigenie and I have given each other the usual assorted sweets and things, nothing too original, to be sure, more a sign of good will than anything else. Finally, Maxime arranged a small firework outside the carriage, and we kept looking at the multicoloured sparks and flashes for about ten minutes, each of us busy with their own thoughts.

I'm not even sure myself what those thoughts or feelings were. A strange mixture of pride at being a champion for my school, dread of what is still to come, happiness, - no, not happiness, really, contentment, rather, at being with people I can consider my friends, and, deep down, the old loneliness, the feeling of missing something, not even knowing what …

Dec. 25th, 1994

11 a.m. - So it's the ball today. I have a feeling of uneasiness, to be honest. It's probably stupid of me, I'll have Maxime perform the Obscurata charm on my hair, and Roger promised to put the Equanimity Spell on himself, so everything should be perfectly all right, but still…

We'll all start getting ready around four in the afternoon, and around half past seven Maxime is going to lead us all up to the castle.

7 p.m. – I have taken great care with my appearance, and I think I look good, even for Veela standards. The silver-grey satin robes Maman chose for me look great, and the moonstone is just about perfect with them. Margaux and Iphigenie have congratulated me, and I don't even think there was any envy in their voices. In a couple of minutes, we are going to the castle, and I really look forward to the ball now. 

Dec. 26th, 1994

The dirty, cheating…! It's one in the morning, and I ought to go to bed, but I'm still so furious I can't sleep. Never before have I been so shamelessly treated. Why, oh why can't I transform like my grandmother? I'd have loved to teach him a lesson! But I should calm down and start at the beginning.

When we entered the entrance hall, it was already buzzing with all the students. The Hogwarts poltergeist was having a great time, clanging pieces of armour together and singing one of his indecent songs. (One piece of armour started "Silent night, holy night", and he went on: "Look, a tart comes in sight", giving me a nasty look before disappearing through the wall.)

Roger Davies was waiting for me there, and Cedric and Cho joined us presently. Harry Potter was already there, too, accompanied, not as I had expected, by his bushy-haired friend, but by an extremely pretty Indian girl with long pitch-black braids in shocking pink robes. For a short moment, I noticed Ron, the red-haired moron, who was obviously hiding from me, and couldn't help smiling. A few minutes later, the Durmstrang students, headed by their headmaster, entered, too.

One of the Hogwarts teachers (she was wearing rather terrible robes in red tartan and had topped off the bizarre appearance with a wreath of thistles round her hat!) told the champions to wait next to the door to the Great Hall. Now I could also see Viktor Krum's partner, and it took me some time to recognise her as Harry's bushy-haired friend. While normally I'd have described her as rather plain, she looked very pretty now, in her blue robes and her elegant hairstyle that must have taken her hours to do. Many girls from Krum's admirers gave her murderous looks, not unlike those she's often been giving me.

After all the others had entered the Hall, we were given a sign to get in line and walk in, too. Amid applause, we walked up to a large round table, where the judges were already sitting, and sat down there, I between Cedric and Roger.

There were golden plates before each of us, and a small menu next to the plate. There was the compulsory Christmas pudding, goulash, and pork chops, all those heavy dishes full of saturated fatty acids that had been served continuously for the last two weeks, but luckily they had some fish, too, which I ordered by talking to the menu.

I don't remember what made me do it, perhaps it was that I was fed up (A/N: I'm not sure whether this phrase exists in French, too, but it's a nice pun) with the monotony of the food, or just some subconscious motivation, but I started criticising the decoration of the Hall; to be sure, it wasn't very much to speak of, just some frosted walls and a couple of garlands of the boring mistletoe and ivy that for some reason or other are so popular in England. Anyway, I started telling Roger about the Christmas decorations we use to have at Beauxbatons, the ice statues, and the wood-nymph choirs. 

"… and if a poltergeist ever entered into Beauxbatons, he would be expelled like that." And I slapped my hand on the table rather loudly, looking at Roger.

If I'd been more alert, I'd have noticed the signs even at this early point.

"Absolutely right," Roger said, "Like that." And he repeated my gesture, apparently perfectly unaware of what I had been saying. Now I also noticed his dazed look and the way he kept missing his mouth with his fork. But I didn't think anything of it at the time.

Looking around, I saw that Viktor Krum was talking animatedly to his partner, the _ugly-duckling-turned-swan in the blue robes. She was teaching him to pronounce her name, and I thought this would be an opportunity to finally remember it too._

"Her-me-own", he said, which is the perfectly normal pronunciation of the ancient Greek name Hermione, as every French speaking person knows. (I wonder how her parents got the idea to give her that name.)

But no, English is different; I'll never catch all its subtleties. She kept telling him again and again to say 'Her-my-own-knee' an absurd way to say it if anybody asks me. 

 Viktor, although he may be a good wizard and a diligent student, didn't seem very quick on the uptake, and "Herm-own-ninny" was the closest he could get.

Another thing I noticed was (and I won't pretend I didn't feel some satisfaction) that Harry and his date didn't seem to have a good time at all. Although the girl tried to talk to him, he did not bother to answer and rather turned to a young man sitting to his other side who I didn't know, but who, with his flaming red hair, seemed to be a brother of Ron the moron. (He seemed to be filling in for the Ministry official who had been there at the previous occasions.)

After dinner, Headmaster Dumbledore told everybody to stand up from their tables; with a move of his wand, he moved all the tables towards the wall so that there was a clear space in the middle of the hall; then a platform for the musicians was conjured up, complete with all the musical instruments on it, including, as I noticed apprehensively, a set of bagpipes. 

Presently the musicians trooped on to the stage. They were seven women, all with elaborately unkempt manes of hair, in black robes that were full of holes and tears, rags, actually. "The Weird Sisters!" I heard Cho say excitedly. Apparently, they are a very famous group over here, judging from the enthusiastic applause that greeted them. When they picked up their instruments, the lanterns on the table went out, leaving only the dance floor in clear bright light. Everybody at our table stood up, and I realised we, the champions were to begin the dancing.

It was a slow tune, and the really weird sounds of the bagpipes gave it a mournful feeling, not, as I thought, very befitting for a ball like this.

Roger and I started in the normal dancing position, with one of his hands on my waist, and I was careful to keep some space between us during the dance. When, a minute or two after the dance had started, put his other hand on my waist, too, I grabbed it tenderly but decidedly, and pulled him back to the original position. 

"Please, don't", I said softly.

"Sorry."

I did not enjoy the dance very much, and looked around me at the others. I saw at once that Harry was not enjoying himself at all. His movements were clumsy and wooden, and it seemed unbelievable that this was the same boy who had outflown a full-grown dragon. I noticed that he kept watching Cho and Cedric, with a distinct frown on his face.

The next song thankfully was much faster, so each of us was able to dance for themselves now; and I was beginning to enjoy myself at last. After two or three more dances (all of them of the faster sort), we found a table with Cho and Cedric again, had some butterbeer and watched the crowd on the dance floor.

"You watch it," I said to Cho. "Seems Harry Potter has a crush on you. Have you noticed how he keeps staring at you all the time?"

"How could I not?", she replied, and I'm sure she blushed. "Poor boy, but he knows I'm with Cedric, doesn't he?"

"Now way he could not," I told her, grinning. "Just look at the two of you."

After some time, Roger, who had been remarkably quiet most of the time, said he wanted to show me the enchanted garden that had been especially designed for the ball. The strangled tone of his voice and his glazed look did ring a warning bell deep down inside me, but I refused to listen and rose to accompany him outside.

I must admit that garden was some achievement. Here, in the middle of a frozen snowy park, they had conjured up an ornamental garden that would have been quite good enough for Versailles, complete with fountains and blossoming rose bushes. Everything was lit by sparkling fairy lights. What was perhaps not in the best of tastes was the large statue of Pere Noel and his reindeer in the middle of the garden.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Roger said in a whisper.

"Yes, very," I had to admit. 

And then he put his arm round my waist, pulling me towards him. I stiffened instantly. "Don't," I said, still softly.

"Come on," he insisted, his voice hoarse, putting his other arm round my shoulders. "I've been waiting long enough for this moment."

"What moment?" I whispered, taken aback.

"You know exactly what I mean. You've been playing the ice queen with me long enough now. I won't have it any more. Making me put that stupid charm on myself and everything, think I'm a stupid idiot, do you? Bet you're doing it to hundreds of guys for the fun of it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'll tell you what I'm talking about! I'm not putting up with it any longer, right? Took that bloody equanimity stuff off myself just a couple of minutes ago! No, Fleur Delacour, I want you, and I'll have you!"

If there had been any trace of tenderness in his words, I might have reacted differently. But there was only aggressiveness in his movements and I could only see anger and perhaps even hatred in his eyes, as he lowered his face towards mine.

"How dare you!" I screamed at him, and I believe my voice must have carried across all of the castle grounds (I clearly heard a couple of people hurrying off through the bushes nearby). 

Pushing him back with all the strength I could summon, shocked as I was, I threw the first curse at him I could think of – "Vomitus!" - and dashed off through the bushes, tears now streaming down my face.

Hardly thinking where I was going, I made my way out of the enchanted garden, barely noticing the biting cold of the snow, as I was stumbling down towards our carriage.

Shaking with the cold, but even more with anger, frustration and humiliation, I let myself in, and collapsed sobbing in an armchair next to the fireplace.

Not even a minute later, the door crashed open again, and Maxime, of all people, stormed in, in a very agitated manner, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling. She stopped shortly at seeing me, but apparently she was not in the mood for talking, but disappeared through one of the doors immediately. Normally, I'd have said something to her, but I was so wrapped in my misery that I didn't really care.

Writing all this down has helped me to calm down a bit, but I still feel perfectly miserable. I don't see how I can go up to the castle tomorrow and meet Roger again. He must have planned this all the time, lying to me all those weeks, pretending to be nice and sensitive, so I let down my defences, believing he liked me for who I am, not how I look. And meanwhile the only thing he must have been thinking of all the time… I hate him! He'll probably invent the most awful stories about me - what will Cho say? And Cedric? He is a boy; will he believe him? Will he finally follow the common Veela prejudice? And – Harry? Somehow, what I'm most afraid of is that he might see me in that light, too. I suppose I'd better avoid him until the second task. Hope Cedric hasn't forgotten to tell him about the egg…

Grisabel has curled up in my lap while I'm writing this; she always knows when I'm down, and if it wasn't for her, I don't think I could put up with this. 

Two o'clock in the morning – I really should go to bed…


	16. Chapter 16: Downs and Ups

Chapter 16 - Downs and Ups 

Dec. 26th, 1994

"The pig!" Margaux was full of sympathy when I told her last night's events this morning, and Iphigenie added, "The sneaking, crafty scum! Just wait, we'll get him!"

Her energetic outburst surprised me.

"Oh forget it," I said wearily. "It's probably not even his fault..."

"Not his fault?" Margaux almost screamed. "He as good as admitted he'd been planning all this! What did he take that charm off himself for, if he hadn't?"

"It's a lot worse than just falling under the Veela charm the normal way," Iphigenie, back to her usual rational self, went on. "I mean, you are not fully responsible when under it, are you, but causing yourself to fall under it _deliberately_, knowing full well what you want and are going to do… "

"And he knew how you felt about the whole thing, didn't he?" Margaux inquired.

"Of course. I've talked about it to him loads of times. He knew perfectly well. I'd never have gone to the stupid ball with him otherwise... How can I go up to the castle again and face Cedric or anyone else? Roger is sure to have told his own version of the story..."

"Certainly!" said Iphigenie grimly. "And that's exactly why you'll have to go up there like every day. You don't want them to _believe_ his stories, do you?"

"But it's so embarrassing!"

"Rubbish! You know perfectly well who's the one to be embarrassed! The last thing you need is to give the impression of a guilty conscience. No, you'll go up there to dinner, and if you take my advice, be especially careful with your appearance."

Nevertheless, it was with a very awkward feeling that I took my seat at the Ravenclaw table this evening; I don't know if I just imagined it, but it seemed to me that everybody was staring at me. Cho arrived a moment after me - my expression when I looked up at her must have been anxious, I believe, because she gave me an extra friendly smile, and put an arm round my shoulder when she sat down.

"I know what happened," she told me quietly.

"How did you…?"

"The stupid idiot has told Cedric, who, of course, has told me."

"What did he say?"

"Told him all about that clever plan of his. How he kept submitting to that _Equanimity_ charm for weeks, so you would get to _like_ him, thinking he was a decent guy - this is of course, not the way he put it," she grinned, "and how yesterday evening he thought his opportunity had finally come... Then, he went on describing at great detail how he kissed you, and how you encouraged him… "

"I did not!" I as good as screamed.

"I'm sure you didn't," Cho said soothingly. "I think I know you well enough by now to believe you and not him. Anyway, he claimed you encouraged him until he was all sexed up and hardly knew what he was doing any more, and he put a lot of imagination into the description of your hands all over each other, but I don't expect you want to hear the details,"

I could only shake my head numbly.

"And just when he was about to lose control of himself, Roger says, you pushed him away, laughed at him – _derisively_ I think - and disappeared."

I was so shocked it took some seconds for me to find some words.

"I - I did nothing of the sort! You do believe me, Cho, don't you?"

"Of course I do. And Cedric is quite sceptical of Roger's story, too. Do you mind telling me what really happened?"

"No, I don't think I do. There's nothing much to tell, really. We went out into the garden, and… he told me he had taken off the charm and… and… he tried to kiss me - and I ran away! _I want you, and I'll have you_ that's what he said..."

"Now, no need to cry... He said that, did he? What an awful thing to say to someone! As if you were a thing! Tell me, did you at least hex him or something?"

"_Vomitus_," I whispered, smiling through my tears.

"Ha! So that's why he looked so green this morning. You did a good job on this one, really. Don't worry though, there will be some gossip, and you can bet Roger's story will get taller during the telling, but in a couple of days, when term starts, at the latest, everyone will have forgotten the whole thing."

I really feel a lot better now, and, who knows, perhaps the idea of getting back at Roger is not such a bad one after all.

Dec. 28th, 1994

Thankfully, the weather has cleared up again, although it's still cold. So I can go on a ride on my broom now and then, which eases my mind and makes me forget the disastrous turn the ball took. Yesterday, Cho came with me, and it was a great relief to see she really means what the told me.

There's some homework we have to do, but otherwise nothing much is happening. Up at the castle, people (the boys, mostly) are talking to each other in whispers when they see me, and keep shooting me those glances I know only too well. I do hope Cho's prediction will prove correct.

Of course, I haven't said anything about the whole thing to my mother, she'd never understand, and I don't want to quarrel with her again.

Dec. 30th, 1994

I ran into Harry this evening after dinner. He seemed preoccupied and rather in a hurry, and only said hello in an off-hand way, without really looking at me. I'm not sure what to make of it. Is it possible he believes all the rumours about me?

Jan. 1st, 1995

Happy New Year, diary! Had a little party in our carriage, and talked to our families via Maxime's _realitas virtualis _spell. (I must find it somewhere and try to learn to do it myself!) It was lovely to talk to Gabrielle directly after this long time, and it really hurt that I could not hug her. But at least, as Mama preferred talking to Maxime rather than to me, I could tell Gabie about the Ball, and Roger. Of course, I exaggerated the part where I hexed him and generally presented the whole affair in a humorous light, and Gabie enjoyed it a lot.

"And he was still green in the face the next morning?" she enquired, giggling.

"That's what Cho told me."

"That must have been a great hex! Can you teach it to me?"

So I had to promise to teach her as soon as we'd really meet again. I know Mama would have a fit if she knew, but I think that's exactly why I enjoy the prospect so much.

We also had another firework at midnight, and Mlle. Clairvoyante offered to glance into her crystal globe for each of us. I'm not really a fan of clairvoyance, but I did feel tempted to try to find out about the thing I will have to retrieve from the lake, so I asked her what she saw in store for me.

It was not a good idea.

"I see water," she muttered in that annoying dreamy voice of hers. "Cold water. A golden treasure deep in the water… blood… a green flash … and another..."

"Merci," I said hurriedly.

If she wanted to irritate me, she has been absolutely successful. I know nothing at all, but it's been quite enough to make me feel uneasy: "blood" and "green flash" don't sound very reassuring indeed. Luckily, I've never really believed in this kind of thing.

Jan. 4th, 1995

The first day of the new term has started with a lovely surprise. When we were all assembled to begin our first lesson - Potions - Maxime burst into the room.

"Excuse me," she said to Prof. Venefice (or to his image, rather) in that authoritarian manner of hers (she doesn't treat teachers much different from students in this respect). "I'm sorry for interrupting like this (she didn't sound sorry at all), but I must borrow your students for some extra lessons."

And before poor old Venefice had time to say anything, she had already swept us out of the room. We were just allowed to gather up our cloaks and then she ushered us out of the carriage.

Naturally, everyone was curious what all this was about, but she wouldn't tell.

"Just wait," she kept saying, her eyes shining in an unusual light.

Past our horses that were just having their daily ration of Single Malt Whisky from steaming barrels, she led us towards the edge of the forest, where an elderly witch with short grey hair (they do have the most awful haircuts here!) was waiting for us.

"Have they brought it?" Maxime enquired after a brisk nod as a greeting.

"Yes."

"Fine. Now, all of you," she turned towards us, "consider yourselves lucky. What you are going to see is one of the rarest of magical creatures, well worth while the cancelling of a Potions lesson. An opportunity you will hardly ever have in a lifetime, and therefore not to be missed. Professor Grubbly-Plank," she indicated her companion "has consented to show you this. Now, if you follow her..."

We turned round a bend, and there it was - the most beautiful creature I've ever seen, and most likely ever will. A unicorn! Tethered to a tree with a golden bridle, it looked at us with large unblinking blue eyes. Its golden horn was sparkling in the sunlight, and its tail and mane were glittering in all possible shades of silver. The blinding white of its coat made the snow look grey in comparison.

"Oh!" A collective sigh came from most of us, as we stopped in our tracks looking at the magnificent creature wide-eyed and breathless. I felt Margaux squeeze my hand. Of course, we had heard about unicorns in our lessons before, but it is a very different thing to actually see one.

"Now, you all know the basic facts about unicorns, I expect," came the brisk voice of the grey-haired witch. "But now you have a chance to get the _feeling_ of one, too. Of course, the boys will have to be content to have a look from a distance, but even then you should be able to sense the soothing effect. As for the girls,-" she looked at us almost grimly, "it will be up to your own discretion to find out how near you can go, or if it will even allow you to touch it. Mind you," she added, when some of the girls shuffled their feet uneasily, "it's not a question of a purely physical condition, it's about the purity of the mind, more than anything else. Which makes it even more complicated, of course."

Now that I look back, I suppose it was quite amusing to see how self-conscious everyone suddenly looked. At the time, however, I was feeling so torn between my desire to bury my face in that magnificent mane and the fear that the unicorn might not consider me worthy enough that I could not spare any thoughts for the others' feelings.

But soon enough I felt myself so strongly drawn to the beast that I moved forward as if in a trance, and presently found myself touching the smooth, silky skin. The unicorn gave a tiny, barely audible whinny, and caressed my cheek with its soft warm muzzle.

I can't even begin to describe the happiness, the bliss that flowed through me at that touch. Losing all sense of time or place, I threw my arms round the shining neck, and with tears in my eyes pressed my face into the glorious mane.

Aeons or seconds, I have no idea how long I stood there, and it doesn't matter. Finally, I reluctantly detached myself, and stepped back a few paces. In the meantime, most of the other girls had stepped forward and were stroking the unicorn. I didn't notice, nor did I care, who was keeping back, though I believe I saw Maxime remaining in the background. I was so enchanted by the experience that I hardly noticed where I was going, nor paid any attention to the pieces of information about unicorns that Maxime was giving, interesting though they doubtlessly were.

"That unicorn was favouring you," Margaux told me at lunch. Even though she was speaking jokingly, I am sure I detected a hint of jealousy in her voice. "I mean, it allowed most of us to stroke it, but there was a distinct feeling of distance. And you – it was as if you'd known each other all your lives, and had just got together after a long sorrowful parting. How did you do it?"

"I didn't do anything! I was just as surprised as you were!"

"Come," Iphigenie said soothingly, "you don't really believe that yourself, do you? Are you suggesting the veela charm works on unicorns?"

"Of course," Margaux grinned at me. "I'm being a bit stupid, I know. Nobody can charm a unicorn, it does what ever it does out of its own volition, or so Maxime told us. I just couldn't help envying you when I saw you. But I'm happy for your sake, too - you deserved a good turn after that ball…"

"Thank you! It's just been the thing I needed, I feel so happy I can just laugh at stupid Roger's stupid behaviour. And I'm perfectly motivated to start working on that second task thing now, too…"

"That's the attitude!" Iphigenie said approvingly. "So we'll go and start turning the library upside down tomorrow!"

The Ravenclaw students have not seen the unicorn yet, but rumours travel faster than light, and Cho had already heard about it.

"I can't wait," she said excitedly when I told her about my experience. "And it really let you hug its neck?"

"Yes," I replied, embarrassed at the note of envy that was in her voice.

"Well, I hope I'll get to touch it, at least. To think that after the ball Cedric and I almost…" she broke off, her tanned face turning several shades darker.

"Who knows?" I said, ignoring it. "Perhaps it will take a liking to you, too. And even just touching it is a wonderful feeling. You'll love it!"

"Do you know," she told me, when her colour had turned normal again "Gryffindor and Slytherin fourth years were having their Care of Magical Creatures class today, and naturally they were also shown the unicorn. And it almost impaled the two Slytherin girls on its horn when they were trying to get near it! Serve them right, they are veritable pests."

"I've got an idea," she said suddenly, after the last dishes had disappeared. "How'd you feel about proving to everybody that the stories Roger tells about you can't be true?"

I looked at her, surprised. "What do you mean? I'm not sure I care much any more, and I certainly don't want to play any dirty tricks…"

"I thought as much, especially after today, but it wouldn't be a trick or anything. Listen: It's common knowledge that unicorns tolerate only certain people to touch them. If Roger's stories were true, you'd have to run for your life if you ever came across one. So what you do is this: Make sure another Hogwarts class is with the unicorn, and then go and give it a big kiss on the muzzle. And if you take my advice, make it a spectacular appearance. All the school will know almost before the end of class, and then I'd like to see Roger repeating his stories…" She looked at me, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"What a wicked idea," I said admiringly. "Say, when do YOU have your next Magical Creatures class? I'd love to see Roger's face!"

"Wednesday morning. Will you be able to get away?"

"I'm sure I will!"

Iphigenie and Margaux think Cho's idea is great, and of course they'll come with me the day after tomorrow.

I've not felt so good for a long time, it's been the most wonderful day!

Jan. 6th, 1995

By a lucky coincidence, this morning's Transfiguration lesson was cancelled, so we didn't have to think up any excuses to get out of the carriage. Wrapped in our cloaks against the bitterly cold day, we made our way to the edge of the forest. When we turned round the bend, we could already see the students. As was to be expected, the boys were standing at some distance, and I was pleased to notice Roger among them, while a group of girls were crowded round the beast. The elderly Hogwarts professor was standing in the middle between the two groups of students.

"Let's watch them a bit first," Margaux whispered, motioning for us to keep back, as nobody had seen us yet.

"Now that's enough, girls," the professor said in her crisp voice. "Will you please listen to me now, and take notes. As a homework, you will write fifteen inches of parchment on the magical qualities of the unicorn, due Wednesday next week. Now, the unicorn, as I suppose you know already..."

Reluctantly, the girls detached themselves from the animal, and joined the boys again, all of them getting their notepads and quills ready.

"Now!" Iphigenie breathed into my ear, pushing me forward.

It didn't really need her shove; in the few minutes I had been standing there, my yearning to touch that exquisite mane again had become so strong I could hardly restrain myself. Now I rushed forward, forgetting everything around me. Again, I threw my arms round the blinding white neck, again I felt the tears in my eyes, and again that blissful feeling engulfed me like a tidal wave.

I don't remember how I got back to my friends and into the carriage. The first thing that's clear in my mind is Margaux' voice:

"Are you all right? Fleur?"

"What?" I must have looked absolutely stupid. "Where am I?"

It took me a couple of minutes to adjust.

"What happened?" I finally managed.

"You were amazing," Iphigenie said, her voice strange. "You were standing there, your arms round the unicorn's neck, and, suddenly, a single sunbeam pierced that leaden sky, and, like a flash, you were standing there, in that bright light."

"If it had been one of those muggle movies, it couldn't have been more dramatic," Margaux added. "You really must have got through to that animal..."

"Yes," Iphigenie's voice was full of satisfaction. "Those Hogwarts students couldn't get their mouths closed..."

So apparently, our plan worked out. It's strange though, that I don't really care...

The mood at the Ravenclaw table was weird when I came to dinner this evening. Everybody was looking at me, and at the same time trying to hide the fact. A faint murmur was rippling through the students, and it seemed with an effort that they were turning their attention back to their food.

"Morgaine's veil!" Cho's voice was almost a sigh as she sat down beside me. "I've never seen anything like that! It was unbelievable!"

"Now you're going on about it, too," I said, embarrassed. "To tell you the truth, I don't even know exactly what happened. Everybody seems to think it was something extraordinary..."

"It was, believe me. You were just like one of those Pre-Raphaelite paintings..."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'll go and look it up. But tell me, how did Roger take it?"

She grinned at me. "Well, he just sort of faded into the background. Tried to make himself as invisible as he could manage. Look, he has not bothered to come down to dinner either. And I've heard a few comments already, too. You did make a rather lasting impression."

"And what was your experience with the unicorn like?"

Her black eyes seemed to cloud for a moment.

"I'm not sure what to make of it," she said hesitatingly. "And I don't know how to describe it. Yes, I had no problem going up to it, but when I touched it, I felt as if a shadow of sadness - of loss - enveloped me. I must have flung my arms round the unicorn's neck instinctively, at least that's what they told me, and only then a soothing calmness and content filled my soul. I don't know what to make of it. I may have felt guilty of something without really knowing it, I suppose, but still, it's been very strange."

"Well, they say… " I began, but checked myself. I remembered reading somewhere that there was a theory that encounters with unicorns could sometimes go together with a presentiment of the future, but I didn't want to cause my friend unnecessary uneasiness, and after all, it was just a theory and not a proven fact.

"Nothing," I said, perhaps a bit too cheerfully. Luckily, the dishes appeared on the table at this moment, and so her attention was diverted and she didn't ask.

"Don't worry," Margaux said, when I told her about Cho's experience. "I know the theory you have in mind, but it's a very obscure one, and there's no real scientific evidence that there might be something in it. No, I think you were perfectly right not to tell her."

"And anyway," Iphigenie added in that mater-of-fact tone of hers, "they always say you can't change the past, but you can't change the future either. So it's best not to pay any attention to premonitions and things, it only makes you unhappy."

Of course they are right, but still...


	17. Chapter 17: Reality virtual and otherwi...

Hi, I'm back with a new chappie – sorry it's taken so long. People wanted to see more of Gabrielle – well here she comes! Chapter 17 _Reality - virtual and otherwise _

Jan. 8th, 1995

The last two days we spent more or less in the library, trying to find under-water survival techniques, but without any success so far. The weather has turned nasty, so we hardly leave the carriage unless we have to.

The Hogwarts students behave somewhat strangely to me after the unicorn episode. Whenever they see me come, they stop talking and back away from me, almost as if they were afraid. Cho and Cedric, much to my relief, have not changed; we can still talk about everything, although we are rather careful not to mention the Task. I have no idea, therefore, if Cedric has already found something to help him. 

I've only seen Harry from the distance, he seems nervous and ill tempered; possibly the Task bothers him, too.

Jan. 14th, 1995

I've still not found anything useful concerning the Task, but I've come across a reference about the_ realitas virtualis_ spell! It's supposed to be in a book called _Magical Equivalents to Modern Muggle Technology _by an American witch called Zelda Spellman. It seems to be a very new development, as the book appeared only a couple of years ago. I couldn't find it on the general shelves, though, so I think it's in the Restricted Section. I wonder how I can persuade the librarian to allow me to look at it.

Jan. 16th, 1995

I decided to take the weekend off my research (which hasn't led to anything yet, anyway) and to meet Cho and Cedric at the Three Broomsticks this afternoon. Margaux and Iphigenie are planning to meet some guys from Hogwarts there, and I know better than to join them, after my experience with Charmaine. Even with the _obscurata charm on my hair, I don't want to take any risks of annoying them, their friendship simply means too much to me._

***

The pub was packed this afternoon, and we could barely find some seats. We had just taken our butterbeer back to our table when the door opened and the awful reporter woman entered. This time she was in banana-yellow robes that were just horrible with her shocking pink fingernails. I'll never understand how someone can have such bad taste. She was walking towards a table talking to her photographer, when I could hear Harry's voice, clear and loud above the din: 

"Trying to ruin someone else's life?"

Only now I saw him sitting at one of the tables with his two friends. The Skeeter woman put that false smile of hers on her face and said something to him that I could not hear. Harry was not impressed, apparently, and answered in an angry voice, but again I could not catch what he was saying. But presently he shouted:

"Who cares if he's half-giant? There's nothing wrong with him!"

"What are they talking about?" I asked Cedric in a whisper that still sounded loud in the suddenly quiet room.

"Hagrid!" he answered. "Of course you'd not know – there was an article in the Daily Prophet the other day – said he's half-giant… That's probably why he's suddenly stopped teaching…"

"Half-giant?" I mused. "Hey, and he's just the same size as Maxime… Could she be half-giant too? Yes, I suppose so…"

In the meantime, Harry and his two friends had stood up from their table and, after a few more words with the Skeeter woman that I didn't catch, left the pub.

"We're going to read more about this soon, mark my words," Cedric said. "It's not a good idea to make an enemy of the press..."

***

Now, it seems amazing I've never thought of it myself, or anyone else, for that matter. It's quite obvious, really. Her size can't be explained any other way. I wonder how she's managed all these years. But I expect she's been using some special magic of her own, so that people don't really think about it... Anyway, I hope my mother won't get the idea into her head; she'd kick up no end of trouble, what with dangerous half-breeds and so on. Ridiculous, really, she's a "half-breed" herself, isn't she? And Veela are anything but _harmless, actually._

Jan 17th, 1995

Iphigenie, - always the brainy one, - has finally given me an idea what to look for concerning sub-aquatic survival. Actually, it was a coincidence that caused it. 

She and Margaux were in the Three Broomsticks at the same time as me, but, being less interested in Harry Potter than I was, she looked around the place a good deal. I believe her date, a Hogwarts boy called Oliver something or other, wasn't so fascinating as to occupy her wholehearted attention. Anyway, looking around, she saw an oval bowl standing on one of the shelves, containing a number of goldfish.

"It might be worth looking for," she told me this morning. "A charm that forms a bubble of air round your head and keeps it there while you're under water. Just like that bowl keeps the water for the goldfish, only the other way round."

"Muggles have something like that, too," Margaux added. "Only it's made of iron or something, of course. I've seen pictures of them: They wear thick suits, and these large round metallic bubbles on their heads. It shouldn't be too difficult to find an appropriate charm for that."

This is actually the first concrete idea so far, and I'm going to see what I can find in the library tomorrow. Also, but I'm not telling this to anyone, I'll have another go at that _virtualis_ charm. It would be so great if I could use it on my own to talk to Gabrielle!

Jan. 18th, 1995

It's not as easy as it sounds; even though I have an idea, it's quite difficult to think of terms and expressions under which to look, and I've not been successful yet. Perhaps it's also a question of my imperfect English; if I could just use the Beauxbatons library...

Hey, this is an idea! Maxime makes us attend regular lessons back at Beauxbatons, so it shouldn't be a problem for her make it possible for me to use the library the same way. I'll ask her first thing tomorrow.

Jan 19th, 1995

At breakfast, I went up to Maxime.

"Excuse-moi, madame," I said in my most polite voice. "It's about that Second Tournament Task..."

"Yes?" She seemed to snap out of some kind of reverie; I have never seen her like that before. "I have an idea how to do it," I continued. "But it's so difficult to look for things in the Hogwarts library, - my English is not good enough, I'm afraid, - " It's always a good idea to look a bit helpless in her eyes, - not too helpless, though, she has no patience with the whining sort of helplessness. It worked again, actually I was to discover it worked much better than I had ever expected.

"An idea, you say?" She actually beamed at me, something she NEVER does. "That's the spirit! Just show them where to get off!" she finished with a surprisingly grim note to her voice. "No, don't tell me your idea," she continued. It's better if I don't know. But what can I do? I can't really help you, you know..."

"Of course not," I said hurriedly. "It's just - so hard to find anything in these English books. Now if I could look for this thing I have in mind in our own library back at Beauxbatons..." 

"Clever girl," she smiled to herself while thinking for a short while. "Yes, why not?" she said finally. "Listen, I have not got the time to perform that charm on you whenever you want to go to Beauxbatons, and it would also be too inconvenient for you. But I'll teach you how to do it yourself. It's not an easy spell, I warn you, and it is absolutely outside the normal curriculum, however, even if you should not manage to learn it, nothing can possibly happen, so it is well worth trying. Come see me this afternoon at three, then we'll start the first lesson. And for a beginning, you can already try to visualize the library as exactly as you can. This is the most important part and takes most practice, too."

I'm awfully excited! If I have understood her correctly, she's going to teach me the _realitas virtualis charm that I've been so eager to learn all this time! I can't wait!_

***

5 p.m. - I'm back from two hours training with Maxime, and I'm exhausted. I'd not expected this would be so hard. No wonder it's not very widely known. It doesn't even need much wand work, but the concentration that you need for the visualising part drains your energy a lot.

Maxime must have a grudge against the Hogwarts people, she kept telling me to stick to it and to "show them". I've no idea what made her so angry, but if it's the reason she's teaching me this spell, it's fine with me.

I had expected to start trying to get to the library right away, but I was disappointed. To begin with, Maxime made me visualise the sitting room in the carriage (we were in her study), then our dormitory, and finally the place in front of the carriage. 

"It's hard enough for a start," she told me. "And these are places you have seen every day the last few weeks; while you haven't been to the Beauxbatons library for about ten weeks now."

And really, after I had practised these places for some two hours, I felt I just couldn't go on.

But Maxime was satisfied with the progress I had made, and told me to come again Wednesday.

Jan 20th, 1994

My second lesson with Maxime has already been more successful. I - or rather my image - went to the Great Hall and out through the great doors onto the drive in front of the castle. It's weird to drift through doors as if they didn't exist at all, and Maxime tells me there's nothing to stop me from going through walls, too. However, you can only do all this if you KNOW the place. At least, you must remember the basic structures and objects in it. So I could not, for example, project myself into Harry's dormitory... (I really don't know where this thought came from!) Another drawback is, of course, that you can't touch or move anything.

So I suppose I'll have to get someone to look things up for me in the Beauxbatons library, as I won't be able to open any book myself. Well, I'll see about that when I'm there.

Jan 24th, 1995

It's Sunday again, and I had another go round the castle grounds on my CdF. I confess I'm getting a little nervous; it's exactly a month until the Second Task, and I'm still no nearer a solution of my problem. So I thought a ride on my broom would do me good; I had no idea I'd return in this depressive mood I'm in now.

It really did me good at first. With no stupid egg to carry, and equipped with my sister's Christmas present and an extra strong warming charm, it was wonderful to be high up in the air again, my hair flowing free in the wind, and my problems looking tiny as the buildings and people down on the ground.

"Hi, there," a cheerful voice suddenly said, and Harry Potter materialised next to me. I had not noticed him coming, and the surprise made me wobble precariously on my broom. Again, he reached out and caught my arm to steady me, grinning at me.

"Hey, I thought you couldn't Apparate at Hogwarts!" I joked. "How DO you do it?"

"Comes from catching the Golden Snitch all these years, and talking of golden - " he grinned at me even more widely.

(I have a weird feeling this was supposed to be a compliment, but I guess I'll never know.)

"Actually, I've wanted to talk to you these last few days," he went on, more serious now. "You know, that business with that git Davies..."

"Oh, just forget it, I suppose he couldn't help himself, after all..."

"No," he insisted. "I'm a bit ashamed of myself, really, because I thought there must at least be something in the stories he was telling all over the place, - there's no need to blush, I'm not going to repeat any of it to you, - couldn't believe he'd been making it ALL up. And then those Ravenclaws came back from their Magical Creatures lesson, all excited, going on what a sight you were with that unicorn; and of course everyone knew what that meant. And the way they all looked at Davies... Well, I suppose I wanted to apologize," he finished somewhat lamely.

"Apologise for something I didn't even know? That's what I call chivalrous! But you needn't have - " for some reason, I felt embarrassed, and to hide it I leaned flat down on my broom to urge it forward and shouted: "Race you to the Quidditch hoops on the far side!"

Even as I said it, I knew I stood no chance, and when I reached the hoops, flushed and breathless, Harry had already circled them once and was grinning at me, completely unruffled (well, except for his hair) and breathing no whit harder than before the race.

"Not bad," he said condescendingly, but his eyes told me he was joking. "With some training in three or four years..." Again he flashed me that grin.

"Oh I know I'll never be a match for you," I gasped. "No need to rub it in."

"No, seriously, not bad," he repeated. "For a hobby you're doing it quite all right-"

"While you're a professional, or what?"

"No, but I'm taking it more seriously than you. Though, you know, I might take up professional Quidditch some day…"

"Come, you want to do it for money? And what about defeating Vous-savez-qui every other year?"

"Defeating who? Oh, I see…" his face clouded over, and there was a strange tone to his voice, anger, frustration, I couldn't really say. 

"Did I say anything wrong?" I enquired, worried by this sudden change of mood.

"No, no you didn't," he said in that same harsh voice, shaking himself as if trying to get rid of something clinging to him. "How could you possibly understand…"

"Try me," I insisted. And as he turned away from me, I put my hand on his arm forcing him to look at me. "Tell me what's wrong."

"You have no idea," the words suddenly broke out of him. "I'm so absolutely sick of all this! Everyone expecting me to save the world all the time! Yes, the Boy-Who-Lived, the famous Harry Potter! And when they're not admiring the famous hero, they're printing lies in their papers, lies about me, lies about my friends. And even my best friend – No, how can you understand, if even Ron thinks he must be jealous of me!"

And he tore off on his broom, doing a series of mad dives and loops before finally disappearing out of my sight.

I could kick myself! One joking remark, and with perfect aim I hit the one spot that hurts him most. Great thing indeed. Worse still, I know exactly how he feels about being the famous Boy-Who-Lived, so I ought to have had more sense than that. I do hope I'll get another chance to talk to him and set things right.

Jan 27th, 1995

Noon - My lessons with Maxime have been going well, which has brightened my mood a good deal. This afternoon, I'll try to project myself (my image, of course, but it sounds much better this way) to Gabrielle's room back home. If all goes well, she'll be there for her afternoon leisure time, and I'll be able to talk to her without Maman listening. I'm very excited, I do hope it will work!

5.30 p.m. – It worked!!! I could jump for joy! 

I know my sister's habits well enough, so I visualised the spot next to her door, where she would not notice me appearing. As I had expected, she was there, flat on her stomach on the deep fluffy carpet she loves so much, deep in one of her books.

Alas, I could not silently creep up from behind and tickle her, so I just walked (drifted, more accurately) towards her, until I was between her and the window. My shadow fell on her book, and she finally looked up.

It was the funniest sight I've ever seen. Her eyes got larger and larger, her mouth fell open and she took a beep breath. Before she could let out the shout that was lingering in her throat, I put a warning finger to my lips, and, clever little girl that she is, she understood at once. 

So, she just jumped to her feet and rushed towards me, her arms spread wide. Of course, she rushed right through my image, and could just check herself before crashing into the desk in front of the window. She turned round and looked at me, bewildered.

"Oh, I forgot," she finally said with a rueful smile. "I'm so happy, you're here, even if I can't… But how…?"

"Yes, it's such a pity I'm only _virtually_ real," I grinned. "But I guess it's better than nothing, isn't it? It's wonderful to be with you, Gabie, I've been missing you so!"

"Me too!" 

And she opened her arms again, only to let them drop to her sides at once.

"Tell me, Fleur, how did you manage to come? Isn't this a very difficult spell?"

"Yes, and I still can't believe I mastered it in such a short time. Well, I asked Maxime – "

And I told her how I had got her to teach me.

"How clever of you!" Gabie said admiringly. "And you didn't tell her you really wanted to see _me?"_

"Of course not; she'd not have thought this a sufficient reason."

"And have you been to the library yet?"

"No," now it was my turn to smile ruefully. "I wanted to see you first!"

"You're so sweet!" Then her voice turned very serious. "But you haven't found that charm yet, have you?"

"Got me," I admitted.

"But this is important," she told me earnestly, and it was absolutely lovely to watch the severe wrinkles on her forehead as she was trying to look as stern as she could manage. It almost hurt physically to be unable to hug and kiss her, she looked so adorable.

"You must work on it," she went on. "The spell may be difficult to learn, and anyway, you must find it first. There's not so much time left, you know."

"I promise to start first thing tomorrow morning," I said solemnly, standing at attention and putting my hand to my heart, at which she dissolved into giggles.

"So, what's new over here?" I asked her when she had stopped.

"Not so much, as you can imagine. Wait, there's one thing, though. Since sixth January, I've been attending the _ecole preparatoire_ in town! Maman thought it would be a good idea to start preparing for Beauxbatons. So I'm going to town Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays each week. It's a nice change to be with the other kids."

So even Maman's oversized ambition can have its good sides. I remember that prep school only dimly, but I do recall the happiness I felt at getting somewhere new. Come to think of it, it was a rather happy time too, no worries about veela charms…

Anyway, I was happy to hear that she liked that school too, and listened to the stories she was telling me about her classmates.

"But what about you, Fleur?" she finally asked, after she had finished a rather funny story about her first flying lesson. "What's happening over in Hogwarts?"

So I plunged into my tale, and it was an incredible relief to be telling her everything – the choosing of the champions, the dragons, the disastrous Yule Ball. Of course I had told her all this in my owls, but I had always kept in mind that my mother would be checking on everything, while now, for the first time in half a year, I could tell her absolutely everything. 

She was enthralled with my narrative. Her eyes widened at the choosing of the _fourth champion, she caught her breath when she heard about the dragon setting fire to my robes, and she was furious when I told her about Roger Davies and his behaviour at the Ball._

"Oh Fleur," she whispered, her eyes shining with tears. "How could he do this to you?" She made to pat my cheek, but realised it wouldn't work. "But you did get him back, didn't you?" 

So I told her about the unicorn, and was happy to see her laughing again. "How clever of you! Bet that'll teach him a lesson, the slimy toad!"

I refrained from lecturing her about toads not being slimy. "Actually, it was not my idea," I told her instead, giving credit where credit was due. "It was my friend Cho who suggested it."

Of course, now I had to tell her everything about Cho and Cedric, and she thought that both of them must be wonderful people.

"There's one thing I've never written about," I finally proceeded to tell her. "I thought it was no good idea to have Maman find out about it. It was one of the reasons why I wanted to talk to you so much. Please don't tell her about it…"

"I won't," she said very earnestly. "What is it?"

And I described my meetings with Harry Potter to her. She sat very still, listening to me very intently.

"Poor boy," she said quietly, when I had told her about our last encounter. "He must be so unhappy."

All I could do was nod. There was a pause.

"You like him, don't you?" she said suddenly.

I'd never have admitted it to anyone else but her. "I believe I do," told her. "He's the first boy who takes me for the person I am, who doesn't give in to that awful veela charm… Oh Gabie, you're too young, you can't possibly understand!"

And I felt tears come to my eyes as I thought that she was going to experience exactly the same awful and disgusting incidents in a couple of years.

"See if I can," she said very earnestly, her beautiful blue eyes looking into mine without blinking. "He is the first boy who doesn't go all misty-eyed and addle-brained when he looks at you, right? And he doesn't start bragging all over the place what a super-hero he is, or how rich and influential, right? And he doesn't start doing idiotic gymnastic exercises to show off looks and his fitness, right?"

I looked at her in surprise, and only nodded.

"AND," she continued almost triumphantly, "Everyone thinks he's special for no merit of his own, and expects him to do the most spectacular things all the time, while he wishes nothing more than to be a normal, inconspicuous boy nobody would ever look at twice. In short, he's as much like you as he can possibly be without sprouting a mane of silvery hair. And you are surprised you like him?"

I was dumbfounded at that insight of hers. I know my sister very well, but I'd never have expected so much understanding from a small girl like her.

"Wow!" was all I managed to say, and it was only after some time that I could go on. "I couldn't have explained it better myself; in fact, I'm not sure I even understood myself before you put it to me so cleverly. Gabie, you're the best little sister in the world!"

"I'm your ONLY little sister in the world," she told me, grinning at me mischievously, her seriousness gone abruptly.

Forgetting completely that I was only virtually with her, I tried to hug her, but of course my arms went right through her body, which caused her to laugh merrily.

Outside in the hall, the large grandfather clock was chiming - five strokes.

"You have to go," Gabrielle said softly. "Maman will soon call me down for my music lesson. And we don't want her to find you here, do we?"

"No, sweetheart. You're right, as always; I really have to go now. But I'll come and see you as often as I can, I promise. And I also promise to teach you this charm as soon as you're old enough to handle it. Bye, baby, I'll see you soon."

"I'm not a baby... But I love you. And you should set things right with him, you know."

I didn't have to ask who she was talking about.

***

When I was back in my body in the carriage, the first thing I noticed were Margaux' anxious eyes.

"Where've you been? I was getting worried, you know. You've been lying on your bed for the last hour and a half or so, and did not react to anything. Iphigenie told me not to bother you, you were probably doing that _virtualis thing, but I swear if you hadn't come round soon, I'd have called Maxime."_

"Lucky you didn't," I said, still trying to get my bearings. "She's not supposed to know. I was back home, talking to my sister, you know."

Of course I had to tell her about it, which I did, but I omitted the talk we had had about Harry. I mean it's all very well to tell your friends everything, but there are things I prefer to keep to myself.

Hope you enjoy it, and I'm not quite sure if I'll manage to have the Second Task in the next chapter already, I rather doubt it. So be patient and review nevertheless!


	18. Chapter 18: Ready to take the plunge

Chapter 18: Ready to take the plunge

Feb. 1st, 1995

This afternoon, I used the _virtualis_ charm to go to Beauxbatons to start my research in earnest. As I had to use someone else's physical support to use the library, I decided to project myself into my old dormitory first. I knew Charmaine well enough to know I'd find her there.

True enough, she was there, flopped down on her bed, perusing, - I don't think one can call it reading, - the latest copy of _La Jeune Sorciere_.

I admit I felt something like homesickness looking around the room and my own bed that I had not slept in for what seemed like ages, and it struck me how comparatively easy everything had been then.

However, I told myself not be silly, and silently moved up to Charmaine, who was deeply engrossed in an article about some wizarding rock group calling themselves by the original name of _The Glowing Wands._ (They are a French group, but of course they must have an English name to be cool enough.)

I'd have loved to snatch the magazine from her, but as I couldn't do that, I just shouted "Boo" in her ear.

She almost fell off the bed in surprise.

"Fleur!" she gasped. "What-?"

"Yes, it's me," I told her, unnecessarily. "It's a new charm I learned. Listen Charmaine, I need you to help me..."

I must have forgotten the kind of person Charmaine is, because there was no way I could get her to just go to the library with me. I had to tell her "everything" as she called it. Of course I only gave her a very careful selection of events, but nevertheless it took quite some time. (I did not mention Harry Potter, though, or I'd still be there discussing him with her.) 

Finally, she was somewhat satisfied, although she kept telling me I simply HAD to come back again and tell her MORE, and agreed to go to the library to help me with the books.

__

Realitas virtualis is a wonderful charm; while Charmaine had to walk all the way across the chateau to get to the library, I just visualised the place and found myself there without any delay. Luckily, the library was deserted at this time of day, so nobody saw me and I didn't have to waste time answering heaps of stupid questions. I hovered next to the shelves, looking at the titles of the books to make up my mind which ones Charmaine should get for me.

"Here you are!" She entered the library, somewhat out of breath, about ten minutes later. "How did you- oh, never mind. Now what do you want me to do?"

"I need to find a charm that will help me survive under water for an hour," I told her. And I proceeded to describe Iphigenie's idea of the air bubble to her. It took some time for the concept to get into her head, but at last she understood and started taking books from the shelves according to my directions.

It was tedious work; I'd never have believed how many spells concerning the head there are. Spells for growing hair back, spells for curing headaches, spells against acne, …

After what seemed hours, and after Charmaine had dozed of repeatedly, I suddenly shouted, "Wait!"

Charmaine, who had been turning the pages quite automatically during the last couple of minutes, jerked upright and looked at me with big eyes.

"What is it?"

"Here," I said, pointing at a picture on the page in front of her. "This just about might be what I'm looking for."

The picture showed an athletic looking wizard in red robes (there are never witches in these illustrations, you only find them with charms of the healing or repairing kind) who was apparently walking on the bottom of the sea, his robes floating picturesquely behind him, and a group of small colourful fish around his head. It was his head, though, that was the really important part; there was a kind of bubble around it that clearly was not water.

"_Sortilege de tetenbulle," I_ read the inscription on the top of the page. "Yes, this seems to be the right thing."

However, it was not as easy as that. I could not, of course, copy the directions of the spell down, and it seemed somewhat too complicated to just learn by heart in a reliable way. And even if I had Charmaine copy it, I still couldn't take it along back to Hogwarts.

"Be a dear," I said to hear coaxingly, "and copy it for me as carefully as you can, and then send it to my by express owl as fast as possible. It's a pretty difficult spell, and I have only three weeks to learn it."

"Of course I will," she said. "We all wish Beauxbatons to win, don't we?"

She promised to get to work on the copying right away and to send the owl this very evening.

"But you'll have to come back after the Task and tell me about it," she insisted.

"Of course I will, but now I really must be going."

She tried to hug me and I had quite a good laugh at her puzzled face when her arms went right through my image.

"See you," I said, and then suddenly found myself back on my bed in the carriage.

This has been quite a successful day, and I think I can be satisfied with myself. When Charmaine's owl arrives, I'll ask my friends to practise the charm with me.

Feb. 2nd, 1995

I've told Iphigenie and Margaux what I have found and they congratulated me on my good luck.

"I WAS sheer luck, you know," Iphigenie told me in that annoyingly rational way she sometimes has. "You might just as well have been stuck in the library for days. So there's no need to look so smug about it."

Of course she's perfectly right, but I didn't tell her so.

However, Charmaine's owl has not shown up yet.

Feb. 3rd, 1995

The owl from Beauxbatons has finally arrived, and we started our practise this afternoon.

"You know," Margaux told me, and her eyes were sparkling in a mischievous way. "I'm afraid this time you'll not just take a nice hot bath like you did with the egg. The tub isn't big enough, and you want to be sure that charm works. So…"

She didn't finish, but I knew what she was driving at and shivered as I thought of the cold black lake. She's right, there won't be any chance to avoid it. I'll have to dive into that awful water it I want to make sure everything is as it should be.

"But at least we can start here," I said desperately. "I mean – the basics, and then test the whole thing in the lake if I must."

"And must you will," she told me with a grim smile.

Feb. 5th, 1995

We are making slow progress only; the spell is even more difficult than it seemed at first, and I've almost drowned in the bathtub several times. Creating the bubble is not the hard thing, it's keeping it up for a longer time; at the moment I can manage a miserable three or four minutes.

There's a good side to it, though: I've not wasted a single thought on Harry these days.

Feb. 7th, 1995

We've spent most of the weekend practising the bubblehead charm, and I'm up at half an hour now. However, my back starts killing me, -it is one of the most uncomfortable positions, lying flat on your back in the tub, you legs sticking out, and keeping your head under water for such a long time.

"It's warm, at least," Iphigenie keeps saying. "So enjoy it as long as you can, soon it's going to be the lake, anyway."

I must say the thought of the lake does noting to ease my mind.

Feb. 10th, 1994

All the practising (I'm up at fifty minutes now) had successfully banished Harry Potter from my mind. Today, however, I've been reminded of him in the most extraordinary way.

In the morning, when I was brushing my hair in the dormitory, there was a thump on the window. Looking up, I saw a tiny bird fluttering up and down in front of the window, now and then slightly bumping against it. 

When I went over; I saw it was an owl, the tiniest owl I've ever seen, and it was carrying a letter on its leg that seemed quite out of proportion compared to it. Curious, I opened the window, and the owl swooped into the room, twittering madly. It was only after it had flown round the place three or four times that I could finally get it to sit still for me to detach the letter from its leg. No sooner had I done this than it started up again, and, after another circle round the room, vanished through the window again.

Miss Fleur Delacour,

The Beauxbatons Carriage,

Hogwarts Grounds,

The address on the letter said, in a handwriting I had never seen before.

I've never been so surprised in my life, as when I read the note:

Dear Fleur,

I'm sorry for my outburst at our last meeting, and I'd like to talk to you and apologize. Please meet me at the Quidditch pitch on the Fourteenth at three o'clock. Bring your broom.

Hope you'll turn up,

Harry

PS: Not to worry, I'm still not susceptible to the veela charm.

I must have looked absolutely stupid, standing there, my hairbrush in one hand, and the letter in the other, and I guess I completed the impression when Margaux, who had entered without me noticing, said,

"Fleur? What is it?"

I jumped, and dropped the letter. Before I could prevent her, she stooped and picked it up. She may not even have intended to read it, but apparently the signature caught her attention, and then she couldn't help herself. A huge grin slowly spread over her face, as she handed the piece of parchment back to me.

"And?"

"What 'and'?" I must have sounded somewhat irritable.

"Will you meet him?"

"I'm not sure," I stammered, embarrassed. "Shall I? Oh, I don't – what shall I do? Tell me!" I finished desperately.

"Of course you'll go and meet him," she said in a soothing voice and put an arm round my shoulders. "Why shouldn't you? This note is harmless enough, and you don't exactly hate the idea, too, do you?"

I just shook my head, and I think I didn't look too intelligent, to put it mildly.

"So where's the problem?"

"We're opponents in the Tournament," I said in an attempt at being rational, but she didn't buy it.

"Well; so is Cedric, and I've never noticed you had any reservations about being friendly to him. No, you'd better admit it, not to me, mind you, but to yourself, you like that boy, it sticks out a mile!"

All I could do was nod silently.

I can't believe it, I'm having a date, - no, I must not be silly, it's not a date, it's just – well what is it?

Feb. 12th, 1995

To keep my mind off the weekend, I've been practising extra hard, and can keep up the charm for an hour and five minutes without too much difficulty.

"Well done!" Margaux told me when I emerged from the bath gasping for air. "Now I suggest you take a break, and on Monday start trying it in earnest!"

"You mean – in the lake?" I said, shivering in spite of the warm water I was sitting in.

"Yes, the lake," she grinned wickedly. "Will cool you down, too, if you get my meaning," she added with a wink.

I didn't bother to comment on that one.

Feb. 14th, 1995

After a night full of weird dreams, - I was at the bottom of the sea with my head in the stupid air bubble, watching fish with green eyes - I woke to a clear and cold morning. 

"Do you know what the date is?" Iphigenie asked me at breakfast, looking at me with a shrewd expression.

"Oh, it's the fourteenth, why?" I replied, having no idea what she was driving at.

"Valentine's Day!" she shouted triumphantly.

"So what?" I still had no idea.

"Yes, it's not so commonly known in France; it's an English custom, originally a muggle thing from America," she started lecturing in her best teacher-like tone. "On this day everyone sends their sweethearts greetings, or flowers, or sweets. And now it's exactly today you are to meet your Harry…"

"He's not MY Harry!" But my protest was rather feeble. Though had not realised all the stuff about Valentine's Day, all the things I had heard about it came back to me.

"Surely it's just a coincidence," I said, trying to convince myself rather than anyone else.

"Well, you'll find out soon enough," Margaux grinned.

I must say all this has confused my even more.

+++

5 p.m.

If I was confused before, I don't know what I am now.

Wrapped in my cloak, with the hood up, I mounted my broom and flew over to the Quidditch pitch. A tiny speck that I had seen from afar soon turned into Harry Potter. This time, for the first time, actually, he didn't suddenly materialise out of nowhere, but was hovering on his broom next to the hoops in a relaxed and careless fashion.

Something, Quidditch instincts perhaps, must have told him that I was coming, for he turned round slowly, and started moving in my direction. As we approached each other, I could see his face more clearly, the friendly smile and the open look of the bright green eyes.

"Bon jour," he said, mispronouncing it horribly, so I had to suppress a smile. But he noticed.

"That awful?" He grinned at me.

"No, not much, - " I stammered, but his grin was irresistible. "Yes, in fact it was. But it's nice of you, anyway."

"I did try an enchanted dictionary, but seems it was no good. Hermione could have taught me, I suppose, but I don't think I could very well have asked her. I'm glad you've come." He continued, the grin slowly disappearing from his face. "I behaved like an idiot last time, I'm sorry about that, you meant it as a joke, and here I go crazy all over the place. How could I expect you to understand …"

"But I DO understand!" I interrupted him. "It's me who should apologise! I know exactly how you must feel with everybody gaping at you and expecting the most wonderful things from you, whether you like it or not, while you'd like nothing more than be a normal average boy that nobody looks at twice. And then I say that stupid thing, joke or no joke."

He was quiet for a moment.

"I see," he said slowly, his green eyes regarding me with a new expression. "It's something we have in common, isn't it? Though I think the 'wonderful things' people expect from you will be somewhat different." His grin was back in place.

I must have blushed heavily, because he went serious again at once. "Sorry," he said, and now it was he who turned red. "I know I shouldn't have said that…"

"It's all right," I assured him, smiling again. "At least we are even now – a joke for a joke."

"Let's shake on it." He extended his hand (which was a good thing, as I had no idea what he was talking about, I had never heard that English phrase before), and I gladly took it.

I'm still wondering, trying to recall and analyse the sensation: Although his fingers felt cold at the first touch, which was nor surprise as it really WAS cold, they caused a warm feeling that slowly spread across my whole body.

He maintained that gentle yet firm touch for another moment, but just before it might have started to become awkward he let go of my hand.

"Let's do some practising before it gets dark," he said, turning a mad somersault on his broom that made me hold my breath. "You did quite well last time we met up here, but let me show you a few tricks how to get more speed out of that broom of yours. Would be a waste if you didn't use it to its full capacities."

So he showed me how to shift my weight on my broom, how to lean over closer to the handle and other things I'd never thought of, and we had very good time during the next half hour or so. I've always enjoyed flying, but learning these new things and exploring new limits gave me satisfaction and joy that I have hardly ever experienced before. I could, for that short time, forget everything, and just enjoy the moment.

When dusk was setting, and it does set pretty soon here at this time of the year, we both came to a hovering halt next to the hoops again.

"That was lovely," I said, still out of breath from the latest manoeuvres. "Thank you so much for that wonderful afternoon, Harry! It has helped a lot to take my mind off - you know..." and I pointed towards the lake.

I believe his face clouded over for a moment, but I may have been mistaken in the fading afternoon light.

"Oh, that..." his voice sounded strange. "Yes, it's ten days to go isn't it? Well, best of luck, then, I don't suppose we'll meet again before that, will we?"

"That's probably right. So..." I didn't finish and just put out my hand to say good-bye; he squeezed it briefly, gave me another of those smiles, and disappeared towards the castle, while I slowly returned to the carriage.

Luckily, my friends are still down in the village, so I've had time to write this in peace, without them asking me all sorts of question, and to collect my thoughts and sort out my feelings, though I'm afraid this will take some longer time. I've never felt so confused before, and I have absolutely no idea what to think about Harry Potter, or myself, or what I'm going to do about the whole thing. I fell myself drawn towards him in a way that's completely new to me, and it makes me elated and frightened at the same time. I do so want to believe that here is someone, at last, who accepts me for the person I really am, but I'm more scared than ever that it may just turn out another disappointment, which would hurt so immensely more than ever before… I just dare not allow myself to hope.

+++

Of course, when they came back from the village, Margaux and Iphigenie wanted to know everything about my "date", as they keep calling it.

"How can I tell you anything?" I told them. "I don't know what to think of it myself. Es, it was nice, we went flying, and he showed me several tricks. But apart from that - I just don't know, so please don't bother me with all these questions. If there's something to tell, I promise you'll be first to hear about it."

I must have sounded pretty exasperated. Margaux put an arm round my shoulder.

"Don't worry," she said comfortingly. "Everything will sort itself out - one way or another. And I promise I'll help you if you need me."

"You're just scared," Iphigenie remarked in her usual analytical way, but stroking my arm tenderly, nevertheless.

How right she is.

Feb. 19th, 1995

"It's the lake today, mademoiselle," Margaux told me after lunch, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "It's high time for you to test that _tetenbulle_ thing in earnest."

I had known it would come up one of these days, but I still felt less than enthusiastic. But she would take no excuses, and so I found myself at the bank about half an hour later. I had put an _impervious_ charm on my robes so the would be water-resistant, as well as a warming spell; but from the way I was already shivering, I could tell it wasn't going to be much good.

"Cheer up," Iphigenie told me. "You know, water can never be colder than zero degrees, wich is a lot warmer than the air is today."

"Thanks, I needed that," I replied trying to put as much sarcasm into my voice as I could manage.

"You're welcome," she said, grinning at me widely.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm down, I started to perform the necessary movements and incantations to produce the _tetenbulle_ char. When I finally felt the bubble form around my head, I rushed forward into the water and plunged in completely as soon as it was deep enough. 

In spite of the warming spell, the shock was awful, and I had to exercise all my will-power not to run hurry back to dry land at once. But presently I got used to the feeling, though my robes, soaked in spite of the charm, were quite a nuisance. Now I understood why Viktor Krum alwayswore swimming trunks when he went into the lake.

The water was clear, and once my eyes had adjusted to the strange light I could see ahead without any problem. There were various small fishes around which seemed to look at me with surprise. I swam around for a couple of minutes, anf found I could breathe without any problem. Also, the cold wasn't getting any worse, on the contrary, I began to feel almost warm after a while.

Satisfied, I returned to my friends, who had been waiting for me.

"It works perfectly," I told them. "And the cold is not a problem either."

"Great," Iphigenie said drily. "Tomorrow you're going to take your wand along."

I said nothing.

Feb. 20th, 1995

Today I practised underwater wand use, and I think it worked well enough. Water does seem to deflect spells, though, so it is a bit difficult to aim correctly, but I think I can manage. Anyway, what will I need a wand for? I'll only have to retrieve something from the lake. If I only knew what it will be!

Feb. 21st, 1995

There is an unspoken tension between me and Cedric, which is not surprising. We are both getting more nervous as the Task approaches. Cho seems to understand and is trying to humour both of us. Have not talked to Harry since the fourteenth, only seen him from afar. He does not look well, there are deep shadows under his eyes, as if he didn't get any sleep at all these days. I do hope he has found a way to do the task. I'd be really sorry for him if he dropped out. Stupid of me, I know, I should be glad to have one competitor less; but he would not deserve it.

Feb. 22nd, 1995

The loveliest thing has happened today! They have caught two unicorn foals to present in the Care of Magical Creatures lessons. Maxime told us this morning at breakfast, and of course my friends and me went to see them right after lunch.

Unicorn foals are the loveliest creatures imaginable! They are all golden, and while grown ones have an air about them that can be rather intimidating, they radiate pure joy, trust and happiness. I can't imagine anybode not feeling the urge to rush up to them and hug them. They even allow boys to touch them, an unimaginable thing with adult ones.

When I hugged the two small animals, the most surprising thing happened: I could see Gabrielle's face before my eyes, as clearly as if she was standing right in fron of me. I wonder what it means.

There could have been nothin to boost my spirits more, and to encourage me better for the Task the day after tomorrow.


	19. Chapter 19: Taking the Plunge The Second...

Ok, here's the long awaited chappie on the Second Task! Will anyone guess what the title means, apart from jumping into that lake? It took some time to write because it is kind of a crucial chapter, as you will see. 

Thanks for the reviews, I guess it IS kind of AU, or at least is going to be, especially if you think of the new developments in OP. But I do my best not to contradict GoF openly. Now you can argue what's the use of doing a fanfic that does not go along with canon, but I know I'm not alone in this. Heck, there's a fic where Hermione is Draco's twin sister! So I don't really have to worry about this one.

Keep reviewing – there has been a certain lull with chapter 18. Wonder if I make it a hundred with this one.

Chapter 19: Taking the Plunge (The Second Task) 

Feb. 24th, 1995

5 a.m.

Even with the help of the _somnium_ charm, I haven't been able to sleep much tonight. I kept waking up again and again, and in between I dreamed of the most absurd and crazy stuff, so I decided to stop trying, and to stay up. I guess what's unnerving me most is the uncertainty. I still have no idea what I'll have to find in the lake, and even less where to look for it. I only hope they'll tell us before the Task starts, at least. 

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss –_

There are so many things I'd sorely miss: my broom, my moonstone, my diary …

Of course it's still pitch dark outside, the sky is bright and starry, and it must be freezing cold. Probably the lake WILL be warmer than the air…

I might just as well go and practise some of the more common charms until breakfast. Not that I expect I'll be able to eat much. I know I shouldn't be so stupid and stop worrying, after all, the worst thing that can happen is that I lose the Tournament. If I only knew what the thing will be –

11 p.m.

Gabrielle is finally asleep in my bed, so I find some time for myself to write down everything about this day, which I feel is going to turn out as the most important one in all my life, if I get to live to Dumbledore's age! And I'll never say anything against crystal balls, - Mlle Clairevoyante was perfectly right with her predictions, only unable to formulate them in a way one could understand… Oh, I'm so excited, and confused, and happy, and mad all at the same time, I don't really know where or how to begin this.

I must get some order into these thoughts of mine – it's easy, anyway, compared to trying the same with my feelings, - so perhaps I'll leave these for later.

Better start right at the beginning, I suppose.

As expected, I couldn't get any food down at breakfast, and was almost happy when Maxime finally told us that it was time to go down to the lake.

The morning was clear but pretty cold, with frost on the withered grass, as we went slowly down towards the lake, Margaux and Iphigenie holding my hands in a comforting way. Maxime was walking in front of us with those enormous strides, not looking back once, we followed behind her more slowly, and then the rest of the Beauxbatons team followed. The sun was rising behind the lake, spreading a bright light all over the place and starting to thaw the frozen ground.

On the far bank, the stands for the spectators had been erected again, and they were already full of people, whose eager chatting drifted across towards us.

On our side of the lake, the familiar judges' table had been placed, where the judges were already seated. Bagman jumped up and hurried over to Maxime, who held out her hand in that regal way of hers for him to kiss.

"Good morning, good morning!" his enthusiasm was as hard to bear as ever. HE wasn't going into that lake, was he?

"Hi. Fleur," Cedric came up to me, extending his hand. "How do you feel this morning?" 

I shrugged. "Reasonably all right, I believe. I say, you haven't got any clue either, about what we have to find?"

"Nope. Look, there's Krum – and in his swimming trunks, too! Those guys must really be tough, it's freezing!"

Indeed, Viktor Krum was standing nearby, wearing his usual sulky frown; and then it struck me:

"Where's Harry?"

"Where indeed? Now you mention it, I didn't see him at breakfast… Hope there's nothing wrong with him, he did look a bit under the weather recently. Almost nine o'clock – if he doesn't turn up in time, they'll disqualify him. Perhaps that's what he wants…"

"Not Harry!" I said vehemently. "That would be like cheating, wouldn't it? That's not something he'd do, ever!"

Under normal circumstances, I believe Cedric would have teased me about my sudden outburst, but now he didn't say anything. 

I noticed a complacent expression forming in the faces of Karkaroff and Maxime. "Look at them," I said to Cedric, pointing. "Here's someone who'd love it if he didn't – "

I was interrupted. Down the lawn Harry came sprinting at full speed, his robes flying behind him, his glasses at a crazy angle, and his hair even more of a mess than usual. Presently he skidded to a halt next to me, splashing my robes with mud as he did so.

"I'm …here…" Were the only words he could utter, completely out of breath as he was.

"Where have you been? The task's about to start!" Ron the Moron's brother was talking, and his voice was cold and unfriendly. I felt a strong dislike of him, couldn't he see that Harry was completely spent? Now he was even crouching down, gasping painfully, there really was no need to reproach him in addition to all that.

Bagman came walking over. "Now, now, Percy," he said, and I was surprised to see the look of relief in his face. "Let him catch his breath!"

He proceeded to place all of us in a line along the beach, some three metres apart from each other. I was first, then there was Cedric next to me, then Krum, and finally Harry, who still had not caught his breath completely.

While Bagman returned to the judges' table, I was astonished when I saw Maxime step forward towards me, looking around her in a way that could only be described as furtive. Pretending to pat my shoulder encouragingly, she bent towards me and whispered barely audibly: "Look out for a person!" Then she stepped back immediately, turned and took up her seat at the table again.

It took me a moment to take in what she had said, but then suddenly it all clicked into place. A person! I had to look for a person, not a thing! And then, a feeling of terror, absolute and panicky terror struck me: Gabrielle! I couldn't understand how I could have been so stupid! There's nothing in the world I'd miss more than her! And that was why I had seen her face when I had hugged the unicorn foal! While the riddle said "it", they had meant a person all the time! Gabrielle, my sweet little sister, was down there in that black water, and I had to find her!

It's impossible to describe my emotions when I finally realised the dreadful truth. Like a maelstrom, all my thoughts started to revolve about that horrible last line:

            _Too late, it's gone, it won't come back_

What if I failed to find her? It would be my fault if she drowned down in that awful lake.

It was as if through a fog that I saw my competitors, and I believe I trembled violently. When suddenly the whistle sounded, it gave me a horrible start. Blindly I rushed forwards into the water, and only the biting cold brought me back to my senses enough to perform the _tetenbulle charm before I dived. Luckily, I had done the warming charm some time before that, I might have forgotten it in my shock, and then Merlin knows what might have happened to me in that icy water._

My heavy robes made swimming a hard task, and in my excited state it seemed to me I was not making any progress at all. The sight under water was fading quickly the deeper I got, trying to keep close to the bottom of the lake, which descended rather steeply now. Soon everything was covered in a greenish light that made it very difficult to make out distances. Whether by some magic, or because of natural reasons, though, it did not get any darker now, as I descended even deeper down. Instinctively, I headed for the deepest part of the lake, for no logical reason at all. Somehow I felt sure I was going to find Gabrielle there, it was as if I was drawn by some invisible force.

"Hellooo!" the high voice tore me out off my concentration, and I stopped and stared in surprise. A teenage girl with glasses and stringy dark hair wearing Hogwarts robes was floating along beside me. She looked oddly transparent, and I had no idea who she might be or what she was doing down here. She didn't seem to be using any spell other device that would make it possible for her to remain under water, yet she did not seem to have any problems with it. However, I did not really care about that.

"Have you – have you seen a small girl?" I don't remember what made me ask her, it just came to me naturally. "With hair like mine? She must be somewhere here."

The girl giggled. "Perhaps I have, and perhaps I haven't. Why don't you stop for a nice little chat with old Myrtle? Then perhaps I might tell you…"

The strain must have made something snap, because I behaved very foolishly. 

"Tell me at once!" I yelled, and plunged forward to grab her robes, but my hands went straight through her, just as if she was a _virtualis _image. She went into a whole fit of giggles  now. 

"Didn't expect that, did you?" she panted. "You don't just go and grab old Myrtle! Must be polite if you want something from her! Ah, never mind, they shan't say Myrtle is stubborn, - just go on over that direction, deeper down. There's no harm in telling you, Harry's well ahead of you anyway, he'll be first I bet."

(Now that I remember this scene, I think there was a kind of a misty look in her eyes as she said that, and I have also found out from Cedric that she must have been Moaning Myrtle, the ghost of a girl that got killed several years ago and is haunting the bathrooms, of all things.)

I went on, further down into the gloomy depths. I don't really remember much, there were large meadows of seaweed, and now and then some fish came by, but it is all rather hazy in my recollections. Now, afterwards, it seems to me that, like the forest, the lake must be larger than it looks from outside, because I kept going along for quite some time, while the ground below me didn't change. Also, it seems strange now that I never saw any of the other champions, we had not been that far apart when we started on our mission, yet none of them ever appeared in my sight.

At the time, however, the only thought in my head was Gabrielle. Sick with fright, I continued on my way, not really looking where I was going.

This, at least partly, may have been the mistake I made. Suddenly I felt sharp tugs on my robes, and immediately after there was a series of cutting pains in my feet and legs. A group of about twenty creatures had attacked me. They were perhaps the size of cats, their bodies covered in greenish scales, with strong claws  and sharp fangs in their wide mouths. To round off the ugly impression, there were small but pointed horns on their heads. Some of these creatures (I've learned in the meantime that they are called Grindylows, and are typical of lakes in this part of Britain.) were pulling at my robes trying to pull me down towards the meadow of seaweed, while others were attacking me with their fangs and claws.

Stupidly, I had never taken anything like this into account, and, in my state of anxiety for my sister, and as I also had not even thought of having my wand ready, I found myself at quite a disadvantage. While I fumbled inside my robes to get at it, even more of these small monsters sank their teeth and claws into my arms and legs, and it was all I could do to keep them off my face.

Thus, when I had finally succeeded in extricating my wand from the folds of my robes, I had already received several nasty cuts and bites. The blood from these seemed to excite the ugly creatures even more, and they stepped up their attacks.

I hurled various spells at them, but there were so many of them, and my aim was quite bad, too, so more often than not I missed altogether. But at least I could shake off those that were pulling me down, and with a desperate effort managed to get up to the surface and the shore.

I must have lost consciousness for some minutes, because the next thing I know is that I was lying in the grass next to the lake, the Hogwarts nurse was bending over me, and Maxime was standing nearby. Everything came back to me in a flash.

"Gabrielle!" What would have been a scream came out as something like a croaking whisper. I tried to jump to my feet but could only manage a stagger. I had not found her, she was still in the lake! She was going to die! Pushing the nurse aside roughly, I made for the lake.

Maxime grabbed my shoulders to keep me back. She must have told me that it was all right, and there was no need to worry, or something like that, but I was in no state to take it in. There was only one image in my mind, - my sweet little sister caught down there in the silent greenish twilight, and the only thing I knew was I had to go back and find her, or …

"Let me go!" I sobbed, hitting out at her, "I must – " I must have looked perfectly hysterical to everybody watching, and must have gone on like this for several minutes.

Suddenly, the spectators broke into an enormous burst of shouting, and I could see a commotion in the water near the shore, but could not make out what was going on, blinded with tears and my face smeared with blood. 

I renewed my efforts to break from Maxime's grip, but of course it was no use. However, I could at least get a better view of what was going on. My memory is still somewhat hazy because I was not in a state where I could notice things very well, but this is what I remember:

A number of heads appeared in the water, and some time later there were three people, shadowy against the bright sky, so I couldn't clearly recognise them, emerging out of the water, and walking towards the shore. Now I noticed that it was two larger persons, leading, half carrying a much smaller one between them. And then I recognised her!

"Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she hurt?"

I finally broke free from Maxime (more likely she released me) and hurried over to the group, scooped her up in my arms and hugged her as I have never hugged anybody in my life. All my fear dropped from me, and my tears were tears of pure joy now. 

"She's fine!" I heard somebody say next to me, and only now I realised who had brought my sister back to me from that horrible lake: Harry! And the other person supporting her had been Ron Weasley, whose brother came rushing towards him and started fussing over him.

The nurse was coming up with blankets, but I brushed her aside impatiently and clung to Gabrielle. I was freezing in my wet robes, but I didn't notice, I was so full of joy. 

"Oh Gabrielle - I thought -" I could not say any more, my tears were choking me.

She didn't say anything, just hugged me as if she would never let go.

All the others had been tightly wrapped in their blankets, and I saw that Cedric was also standing nearby, his arms tightly around Cho, who looked just as wet and bedraggled as the rest of us, and I remember vaguely wondering why. Viktor Krum was trying to carry on a conversation with Hermione, who, however, gave most of her attention to Harry and Ron. 

"You're well outside the time limit, though, Harry – did it take you ages to find us?" I heard her say.

"Well, no, I found you ok," he answered and there was a strange tone in his voice.

In the meantime, Dumbledore was talking to a fierce-looking mer-person down at the shore. Apparently he they were talking in Mermish, the same weird sounding language I knew only too well from the golden egg.

Presently, he rose from his crouching position and signalled to the other judges, who proceeded to have another conference together.

Meanwhile, the nurse had led Ron over to us, and wrapped him up in a blanket, too. Now, she marched resolutely towards Gabrielle and me, who were still holding each other tightly. She made to look after my injuries, but I waved her off. 

"Look after Gabrielle!" I told her in my most authoritarian manner, and turned to Harry.

"You saved her," I said, "even though she was not your hostage."

Remembering it now, I must say he looked at me rather stupidly.

"Yes," he said, but I hardly heard it. I bent down, took his head in both my hands and kissed him twice on each cheek.

Then I saw Ron, who was looking at me with that dazed look again, and I said to him, "And you, too - you helped -"

And when he said, in a croaking voice, "Yeah, a bit - " I couldn't help myself, and kissed his cheek too.

While this had been going on, the judges had finished their conference, and Bagman's voice boomed across the lake again:

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Mer-chieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows..." 

For what he called excellent use of the Bubblehead charm, I was given twenty-five points. I still don't understand it, after all, I didn't even get near Gabrielle, and would have deserved zero for that. What's the use of a charm, no matter how excellently done, if you don't reach your aim?

Anyway, Cedric, who had been using the same sort of charm, was given forty-seven points, having returned one minute outside the time limit.

Krum, with what was described as an incomplete form of transfiguration (they ARE doing weird things at Durmstrang!), had arrived second and was awarded forty points. 

(Apparently his hostage had been Hermione. I didn't take in the implications at the time, but now I must say I'm very relieved; it means that she would be the thing Viktor would miss most, and not Harry!)

Which left Harry's marks. Bagman went on:

"Mr. Potter used Gillyweed to great effect." (I must find out what this is, I've never heard about it.) "He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Mer-chieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own. Most of the judges feel that this shows moral fibre and merits full marks. However... Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points."

Everybody broke into applause, and I found myself joining in full-heartedly, clapping away as hard as I could with my hands covered in cuts and bites.

"There you go, Harry!" I heard Ron shout. "You weren't being thick at all - you were showing moral fibre!"

I could have slapped him. He hadn't understood a thing, really. For a moment I had seen him in a different light, but actually there was nothing to it. He was just as stupid as ever. And to think I had kissed him!

Yes, this kissing business. There's no way I can avoid it any more. For the first time in my life, I have actually kissed a boy! Ok, so it was on the cheek, and all, but there's no ignoring it. It definitely was a kiss. How lucky I'm not a full Veela! For full Veela, that first kiss means a lifetime commitment, and history is full of tragic stories about it. I'm only quarter Veela, so I hope it won't have the same consequences; however, I'm well aware that it has probably been the most important moment in my life. And I do feel some bond that draws me to Harry Potter, whether I like it or not. Not that I don't like the idea. From what I know of him, he is quite special, generous, honest, open-minded...

Oh dear, here I'm going on already, just like a silly infatuated teenager. Am I? I have a feeling this is a question I'll have to ask myself more than once in the days to come. If only I knew what HIS feelings for me are...

Well, to carry on with the story:

It turned out that Harry and Cedric are tied for first place now, while I, after my miserable performance, am last, - and I honestly don't think I stand much of a chance now. It wouldn't be fair, either, after what Harry did today, if he didn't win; much as I like Cedric, why didn't HE think of freeing the other hostages? I mean he's three years older than Harry and knows a lot more about magic, yet he only thought about himself and his own hostage. But I should be glad for Harry, anyway, that they even considered his 'moral fibre', this is not what they usually do at competitions of this sort.

Bagman announced when the final task was going to take place, but I didn't really listen. I was so exhausted with fatigue and happiness I didn't care. Later, they told me that it's going to be on the 24th of June (I really wonder what is so special about that twenty-fourth), and that a month before that, we'll be told more about it. So it's four months to go, and I'll start worrying when it comes to that. Not that I won't have plenty to think about as it is.

They wanted to take us all up to the castle, but I insisted on returning to our carriage taking Gabrielle with me. We had hardly been able to talk to each other, and I wanted some time alone with her, now that she was finally here with me. Also, I felt the urgent need to lie down in a tub of  scented hot water, to get the biting cold out of my bones.

Soon, Gabie had got over her shock, and she started telling me how she had come to be a hostage in the Task.

"Headmaster Dumbledore arrived at the mansion yesterday afternoon," she told me eagerly. "I was just down in the _salon_ when he Apparated. He was very kind to me, told me he wanted my help in this task of yours." A shadow flew across her face. "But then _Maman came and told me to run along. 'Headmaster Dumbledore has some serious business to discuss," she said. 'He as no time for small children.' But she was wrong, wasn't she? It was business between ME and him, not her!"_

"Of course," I said, trying not to sound too angry at my mother's behaviour. "But you know _Maman, that's just the way she is. Can you imagine HER going down into that lake?"_

Gabie grinned. "No, she'd be worried her hair would be disturbed.. - Well, after they had talked for some time, they called me into the room, and Dumbledore told me all about it. I was going to be put into an enchanted sleep, so I wouldn't even notice what was happening, and then you would come and get me. He put a lot of stress on the fact that it was all perfectly safe, and there was no reason to worry. He said they'd put the riddle in rather strong words to make sure you did your best, but we'd be in no danger, of course."

"Of course, how idiotic of me! And I went all into a panic at the thought of you down in that lake! If I'd only thought more clearly..."

She huddled closer to me. "Oh, Fleur, don't blame yourself, it's just because you love me. And it's over, so what's the use? Anyway, he put that spell on me, and the first thing I know after that is how those two boys were pulling me out of the water."

"Harry and his friend Ron, yes."

"Harry? That was Harry? And I saw you kiss him! Oh, I'm so happy for you!"

"You are happy for ME?"

"Yes, of course, it's what you've wanted to do for ages, and it's a start..." 

"Oh Gabie, if I could only be sure! What if it doesn't mean anything? What if..."

"Sh," she said, with the air of a mother soothing a petulant child. "It will all turn out for the best."

Really, she keeps amazing me, sometimes she seems so much wiser than I am.

***

After a good hot bath, Iphigenie began looking after my cuts and bites, and of course I had to tell everyone what had happened down in the lake. To her credit, I must say she didn't tell me I had been an idiot believing in the words of the riddle, she was very sympathetic, and only said something like,

"If you had explored that lake before-" but then stopped, seeing my expression.

Even Margaux, although she was full of admiration for Harry, almost completely refrained from teasing me about kissing him, something I had not thought she'd be capable of.

***

After lunch, I took Gabie to see the unicorn foals, and at last all the stress and confusion disappeared from my mind. Gabie went into raptures and we did not leave for a long time. Only when dusk settled, we returned to our carriage.

***

At dinner, Gabie was sitting between me and Cho, who took an instant liking to her. From Cho I finally heard what had happened. 

"We talked to Harry this afternoon, and he told us," she said. "Like Bagman said, he was first to get to us. I don't remember anything myself, of course, but it seems they had taken us to village of the Mer-people, where we were tied to some kind of statue. Anyway, after some time Harry was worried the other champions wouldn't come, so he wanted to free all the hostages. The Mer-people stopped him, and while he was still arguing with them,  Cedric turned up to fetch me, and a bit later Krum came for Hermione. When you still failed to appear, Harry says, he threatened the Mer-people with his wand to let him free your sister and Ron."

"I'm a miserable failure, I know. To think I couldn't even manage a couple of Grindylows!" 

"Now, forget it," Gabie told me resolutely, and it was so sweet to see her earnest face. „There's nothing you can do about it any more, so why waste a thought on it? There's still one more task. - But I want to talk to Harry tomorrow!" she added as an afterthought.

***

Harry! It all gets down to Harry again and again. To  be honest, I can't wait to talk to him myself. I must try to find out what his feelings are. If I only knew if there was still some trace of Veela magic in that kiss. It would be horrible if it had affected his attitude towards me, but I can't help hoping it may perhaps have made him like me a tiny little bit...

It's almost midnight, I need to get some sleep.


	20. Chapter 20: Breakfast at Dobby's

****

Chapter 20 Breakfast at Dobby's

Feb. 25th, 1995

I've been excused from lessons today, so Gabie and I could sleep longer than the rest. It was lovely to wake up finding her there next to me, smiling peacefully in her sleep. The pale winter sun was stealing in through the curtains, and where its rays met her hair, cascades of silver encircled her sweet face. 

I had been sleeping very deeply; when I woke, I seemed to have a vague memory of dreams, but it faded so soon I cannot remember anything now. It took me a minute or two to recall what had happened yesterday, the horrible lake, the Grindylows, Gabrielle, Harry – and the kiss. 

Before I could start thinking about all that, however, Gabie gave a huge yawn, stretched like a kitten, and finally opened her eyes.

"Good morning, sunshine!" I said and she cuddled into my arms, soft and warm.

"Oh, Fleur, I was so frightened it had all been a dream! I didn't dare open my eyes... So all these exciting things really did happen! And I'm here with you, and..."

"I'm happy to have you here, too, cherie, now, what do you want to do today?"

"Hmm - first I want breakfast - a real big fat ENGLISH breakfast!" she grinned at me mischievously. "I've heard so many disgusting stories about it, I want to try for myself!"

Like a weight that I had already been so used to as not to notice it any more, all my worries suddenly disappeared, and I could laugh for the first time in I don't know how long.

"I'll see what I can do for you," I told her, "but you'll have to go hungry if you find it as disgusting as all the stories say."

So we proceeded into the common room, which was deserted, as classes had already started. But now the problem was to get Gabie's wish fulfilled. True enough, as soon as we sat down at one of the tables, the usual _petit dejeuner _appeared, complete with croissants, coffee, cocoa and so on, but I couldn't tell how we would make the house elves prepare an English breakfast.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be content with the boring French variety," I told her, and couldn't help smiling when she pouted in that adorable way. "Hey, I know what we can do, though – we can go up to the castle next morning, they are sure to have everything there, you know. How about it?"

"All right," she sighed with exaggerated frustration, and finally attacked her croissant.

"Say, how long are you allowed to stay here, anyway?" I asked her when we had finished.

"Oh, _maman_ didn't say," she replied. "And I didn't bother to ask her," she continued with a shrewd grin. "So it may be some days until she notices I'm not there – not to say misses me…"

Her voice faltered. She still has problems coming to terms with our mother's attitude. So I patted her back to show I understood, and it was not long before she was her cheerful self again.

***

After breakfast we went to see the unicorn foals again, and spent most of the morning with the lovely animals. 

"Promise me one thing," I said to her. "Never, absolutely never go into that forest."

Of course she couldn't just say yes.

"Why not?"

"Because it's full of all sorts of dangerous creatures. That's why it's called the Forbidden Forest."

I could have kicked myself, her curiosity had, unsurprisingly, been even more aroused by my warning.

"What creatures?"

"Werewolves, vampires, spiders… You name it."

"Unicorns?"

I could not lie to her. "Yes, " I said, knowing it was a mistake even while I was saying it. "But you must not go looking for them!" I said urgently, seeing her eyes light up.

"All right, I won't," she said lightly, but I was not convinced at all.

"Really, it's too dangerous," I insisted. "Harry can tell you…"

"Harry!" she shouted delightedly, the unicorns in the forest apparently forgotten. "When can I talk to him?"

"I' m not sure, - I have no idea what lessons they are having today, but I suppose there'll always be a chance at dinner."

"But I don't want to wait so long!" she pouted, but then gave in.

***

After lunch we went on a walk round the lake, to have a closer look at the scene of yesterday's Task.

Things looked a lot more cheerful today in the mild afternoon sunshine, and I found it hard to recall my feelings of utter panic that had gripped me at the beach.

"How stupid I was to believe you were in any danger," I said to Gabie. "I could kick myself, really! If I had been calm enough, I might have been able to deal with those nasty Grindylows, and wouldn't have made such a complete fool of myself."

"Don't worry," she said, squeezing my hand. "I'm happy to know you love me so much. Also-" she looked up at me with that cute impish grin of hers, "think of the bright side…"

"The bright side? What bright side? That I ran away from some stupid Grindylows, or that I'm last now?"

"No," she interrupted. "Just think of it – what would have happened if you had been successful and had 'saved' me yourself? Or, rather, what would NOT have happened?"

I felt myself blushing.

"I wouldn't have kissed him. But, honestly, I'm not so sure it wouldn't have been better…"

"Nonsense! You don't really mean that, do you?"

And I had to admit she was right.

She shuddered in spite of the mild weather when she saw the sinister black Durmstrang ship, which, as usual, looked completely deserted and seemed to radiate a menacing coldness.

"I don't like it, let's go."

So we returned to the carriage and had some afternoon coffee and biscuits.

Again it's rather late as I'm writing this, but I've had a relaxing day, so I don't really feel tired. And there's a couple of things that happened at dinner that I should write down.

We went up to the Great Hall as usual and sat down at the Ravenclaw table. At Gabie's insistence we had gone up to the castle a bit early, because she wanted to look at everything and everybody. So we were among the first people at the table, and could watch the others entering and taking their seats.

Presently, Cho came up to us, holding hands with Cedric. The two of them seemed even closer than they had been, and could hardly take their eyes off each other. 

"Oh, you two look so happy," I told them, trying to keep a note of envy out of my voice.

"Yes," she said, getting up on her toes for a quick kiss. "My hero…"

"Oh, come," Cedric muttered, blushing profusely, "You know it was just a trick."

"Still – " she stopped, then turned to me and said, "I don't care if it was a trick or not, as long as I am the thing he misses most, I'm perfectly happy!"

(Of course it's stupid and it also would have been quite impossible, but wouldn't it have been lovely if ***I** * had been the person for Harry to pull out of that lake? What an idiotic thought - on with the report.)

When Harry finally appeared, he was surrounded by a crowd of eagerly chatting people. 

"... so I fought them," I could hear an excited voice over the general din. "And I knocked out three of them, no mistake, but there were too many, and the finally subdued me and tied me up..." It was Ron, who apparently was telling HIS version of events. I couldn't help grinning and translated what he was saying to Gabie.

"But it's not true-" she started.

"Of course not, he just wants to make himself interesting. Nobody would listen to him, if he just said he'd been sleeping all the time, not noticing a thing. That's the way he is, Harry told me..."

"Harry! Can I talk to him now?"

"Perhaps we should wait till after dinner. You can't just run over to him and talk to him, you know. You don't speak any English, and he doesn't know any French, so I'll have to interpret for you. And I don't think it's a good idea now before the meal."

She had to admit I was right, and soon she was happily digging into the stuff on her plate, steak and kidney pie, or some other unspeakable horror, and actually liking it! I do fear the worst for our English breakfast expedition tomorrow.

Finally the dessert appeared. Cho told me it was called "trifle". Another example of the absurdities of the English language: As far as I remember learning, "trifle" means something like negligible, unimportant, too small to mention, and here they served this huge bomb of calories, complete with mountains of whipped cream, and called it a "trifle"! I must admit, however, it tasted a lot nicer than the usual English main courses. Gabie enjoyed it and had a second helping.

But as soon as she had finished she grabbed my hand and pulled me from my seat.

"Harry!" she mumbled somewhat indistinctly, her mouth still full.

I felt a bit torn, to say the truth. On the one hand, I was really eager to meet him again, on the other, I felt somewhat uncomfortable going up to him in front of all these people in the Hall. But, I thought, I could always just be the interpreter and remain aloof.

So we went over to the Gryffindor table, just as the first of the students were rising from their seats.

"Harry! _Attendez!_" Letting go of my hand, Gabie rushed forward through the crowd. For a moment, I lost sight of her, and when I saw her again, she was standing in front of him, beaming at him. He looked a bit bewildered as she offered her had for him to shake. Hermione, the bushy haired girl, was standing next to him, and for once I could see her smile, instead of glowering, like she usually does whenever she sees me.

"Thank you for pulling me out from that awful lake!" Gabie went on, and now that I had finally caught up with her, I translated it to Harry. Hermione looked from Gabie to me and then back to her again, apparently undecided how to deal with the two of us; but at last Gabie's charms seemed to get the better of her, and she relaxed visibly. Ron, in the meantime, had walked off talking animatedly to the Indian girl he had taken to the Ball, probably about his imaginary exploits in the lake.

Harry was very much embarrassed at this praise.

"But it was nothing," he murmured, "I mean anybody would..."

"Cedric and Krum didn't," I told him dryly, and this seemed to increase his awkward feeling even further.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Harry," Hermione said very matter-of-factly. "You just did what you thought had to be done. And it only does you credit, you know."

"Well, I just couldn't leave her down there, you see... Anyway, I'm glad I did, you're such a sweet little girl, Gabrielle," he finished, bending down to her and putting his hands on her shoulders.

Of course she was flattered, when I told her what he had said. "But I'm not SO little," she said, and Harry, as well as Hermione had to laugh when I told them.

"Ask him if he knows how I can get an ENGLISH breakfast," she ordered me, basking in the attention that everybody was giving her.

"What does she mean - _dejeuner anglais_?" Hermione, who obviously knows a few French words, asked. It was the first time ever that she was talking to me directly.

So I told them how Gabie wanted to explore all the specialities of English _cuisine_, which both of them seemed to find great fun.

"And to think French cooking is considered to be the best in the world!" Even patriotic Hermione could not quite deny that English food was not among the healthiest things.

"Simple," Hermione said finally, "Just come up to the castle tomorrow morning at eight, you can get whatever you like, and taste your way through everything, from toast to fried tomatoes on bacon, baked beans to black pudding and sausages..."

"Wait a minute," Harry interrupted, and I saw that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Why not just go down to the kitchens right now? I ought to go and thank Dobby, anyway..."

I was having rather a hard time trying to translate everything for Gabie. "Dobby?" I asked.

"My friend the house elf," he said. "Without him I'd never have been able to do that Task, you know. It's a long story, perhaps I'll tell you some time."

But of course Gabie wanted to be told at once, and I also didn't feel disinclined to hear it. So he told us that he had not been able to find any way to survive under water, and that only in the very morning of the Task itself, Dobby had woken him up and given him the Gillyweed that had enabled him to complete the Task.

"But isn't it unusual for a human to be friends with a house elf?" I asked, which earned me another glare from Hermione.

"Oh, you think you're superior to them, too?" she said and I was surprised at the anger in her voice.

"That's another long story," Harry said, before I could reply. "And if you want to get that sample of English breakfast now, there is not time enough to tell it. It's almost nine o'clock, and we are not allowed to be outside after ten. Although - " and he grinned again, "it would be interesting to see what old Filch would do if he caught you."

"Who is Filch?" Gabie asked, and so I had to tell her.

"How funny! Why don't we let ourselves be caught? He couldn't really do anything, we don't belong here, it's Madame Maxime's job..."

"Great!" Harry patted her on the back, laughing. "We'll get along fine, it seems we have a lot in common, you and me."

Hermione was less than amused. "Yes, I'm sure you have; only if YOU behave like an eight-year-old, it's not really cute, but something else. And anyway, she ought to be in bed by ten at the latest."

I could only agree.

"Of course; and I do think it will be the best to postpone the expedition to the kitchen, too. - Yes, Gabie, for one thing, you have been eating such a lot already I don't think any more will do you good, and you really should be in bed, too. I'm sure there will be plenty of chances still."

"Hey, I've just remembered," Harry added, "Tomorrow's Friday, and we only have History of Magic at half ten. So why don't we meet here at nine to go to the kitchens together? Just don't eat too much breakfast before you come..."

So, although reluctantly, Gabie finally let me take her back to the carriage, where she fell asleep almost at once, leaving me some time for writing this.

I think I can be quite satisfied; the kiss doesn't seem to have had any effect on Harry (or on Ron, for that matter, which would have been absolutely awful!), he has not changed in any way and behaves just like always. Gabie of course adores him, and I admire the way he treats her. As for myself, I do enjoy his company, perhaps even more than before. Also, it's wonderful that none of us has the slightest idea about the Third Task, so there will be absolutely no feeling of competition at least for the next three months.

I hope Gabie will be allowed to stay for a long time, everything is much more fun with her.

Feb. 26th, 1995

Another laid-back day. Although I have heard a few interesting things from and about Harry Potter, nothing extraordinary has happened.

As we had agreed, we went up to the castle in the morning and were met in the Great Hall by Harry, Hermione and the inevitable Ron. About him, however, I noted something strange: While he had always turned into a misty-eyed, stammering half-wit, unable to utter any coherent sentences, whenever he set eyes on me, he apparently had no difficulty now to enter into a comprehensible conversation. True, he still had a somewhat glazed look, but compared to his previous behaviour it was a fundamental change.

"A good idea to use the Equanimity Charm," I told him, "It makes things a lot easier."

"Equa- what?"

"You mean you haven't – " I was speechless. "But how – "

He looked at me blankly.

"It's true," Hermione said, and for the first time she looked at me in an almost friendly way, "You are actually looking intelligent – or not any less intelligent than usual – and I remember only too well how you behaved with her last time…"

She still couldn't bring herself to say my name it seemed.

"For some reason the Veela charm doesn't work on you any more, mate." Harry was first to realise what this obviously meant. 

"I wonder why?" Hermione murmured thoughtfully.

"No matter!" It was, of course, Harry, who interrupted our thoughts. And in fact, Gabie had already become a bit impatient. "Let's start on our expedition!"

He led us down some flights of stairs into a corridor that was lit with many torches. On the walls there were several paintings, all of them showing various kinds of food. We stopped in front of a picture of a silver bowl of fruit.

"Watch this," Harry said, and he started tickling a green pear in the picture. It was funny to watch, and Gabie gasped in surprise, as the pear squirmed, chuckling, and finally became a door handle, which Harry grabbed. A door opened, and we found ourselves in the kitchens.

Now I have never been in the Beauxbatons kitchens, so I have no idea what they look like; at any rate, the Hogwarts kitchens are enormous, they must be exactly under the Great Hall, and are also the same size, which means HUGE. There were loads of brass pots and pans everywhere, and a large number of house elves were scuttling all over the place, obviously clearing away the remains of the breakfast.

Harry stopped at the top of the few steps scanning the room, looking for something. He didn't have to look for a long time, with a scream of "Harry Potter, sir!" an elf came dashing towards him. 

I've hardly ever seen any house elves before. I've come across our own house elves at Delacour Manor occasionally, but I always had the impression they preferred not to be seen. The creature that was now hugging Harry around the knees was, therefore, the first one that I actually noticed. And the thing that struck me as remarkable was that it - or he, I suppose I should rather say - was dressed in a very strange way. Of course I know that house elves, as a sign of their servitude, can't wear clothes. Our own ones at home get tea towels or napkins embroidered with the Delacour monogram, and all the elves here were clothed in a similar way. This particular elf, however, was wearing clothes, - not anything that could be considered proper attire, but definitely clothing: kids' football shorts a T-shirt of violent purple, horribly mismatching socks and a tea cosy as a hat.

"This is Dobby," Harry said to Gabie and me, gently loosening the elf's grip round his knees. "Here, Dobby," he said to the elf, crouching down so his own face was level with his. "I wanted to thank you for your help, and I've got you these-" And he pulled a parcel from his robes and handed it to the elf, who took it, beaming at Harry with his enormous eyes.

"Harry Potter is too kind to Dobby," he said in his high pitched voice. "Harry Potter is always giving Dobby presents, and has given Dobby the greatest present already…"

While he was saying this, he had opened his parcel, which contained a pair of socks, and it struck me as strange that they were of completely different design and colour. Harry must have seen my expression, because he turned to me with a huge grin.

"Dobby thinks socks must be different, the more the better, so I'm giving him these – I have another pair, of course, and I'll give him that on the next occasion."

I duly translated for Gabie, and she also thought it was very funny. 

"But now to business," Harry said briskly. "Dobby, these are my friends from Beauxbatons, do you think you can get them some breakfast, you know, all the stuff, black pudding, white pudding, beans on toast…"

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir, Dobby is delighted , he is seeing to it at once!" And after a deep bow to Gabie and me he zoomed off into the depth of the kitchens.

"Let's find seats somewhere," Ron spoke for the first time since we had arrived. "If I know the little blighters, they'll be back with their trays in no time."

"Don't call them little blighters!" Hermione hissed angrily. I could not understand why, but was relieved her anger was not directed against me for once.

Ron, who seemed familiar with the reason of her anger, shrugged and steered us towards a large rough oak table, where we sat down. And indeed, in an astonishingly short time Dobby was there again, together with four other elves, each of them carrying an enormous tray full of food.

"Ah, just the thing!" Ron grabbed knife and fork and turned his attention to the tray in front of him.

"Ron!" Hermione's voice was reproachful. "It's just about an hour and a half since breakfast!"

"So what?" his reply was indistinct, as he had just filled his mouth with an enormous piece of what I believed was black pudding. Then he went on more clearly, "You know, I'm actually doing them a favour, they love doing all this…"

Hermione scowled at him but said nothing.

Gabie, who had been clever enough not to eat anything in the carriage, attacked her tray heartily, and I was surprised that she didn't seem to be bothered by the strange taste of the dishes. I thought it wise not to tell her exactly what black or white pudding consists of, though. The only thing she didn't like were the sausages, so there is still some hope that her good taste has not been completely ruined yet.

All the wile, Dobby was dashing around our table, pouring tea for us, beaming at Harry and making small delighted noises, rather like a bird.

"Why is Harry friends with a house elf?" Gabie inquired in between two mouthfuls. "And why don't we even see them at home?"

"Why you don't see them?" Hermione said grimly, having understood that part without my translation. "I'll tell you. Because they are slaves, and who wants to be irritated by the uncomfortable aspect of slaves? Disturbs your conscience doesn't it? Wizards think they are something better, but just imagine where you'd be without the house elves!"

"Oh dear," Ron groaned between two bites of bacon, "now you've set her going again! Hermione – they LIKE working!"

"Yes, because they've been brainwashed for centuries –"

"Anyway," Harry interrupted her, "in our second year, Dobby here tried to protect me – well actually he almost killed me in the process – against the strict orders of his master. And I could trick old Malfoy into setting him free – that's why he is so attached to me."

"And now he's working here, and I hope he'll set an example and the others will develop a taste for freedom, too," Hermione added, looking at Ron stubbornly.

"Fat chance!" Ron retorted.

Finally Gabie had finished stuffing herself with an enormous variety of all the unwholesome stuff on her tray.

"I like English food!" she told Harry in what she thought was English, but it was near enough for him to understand what she meant.

"I'd never have thought a small girl could eat that much," he said, grinning at her. "But you have hardly eaten anything, Fleur."

"I'm sorry, I just can't – and these puddings give me the shivers. I don't understand her myself. I just hope she's not going to be sick."

(Which, of course, is exactly what she was an hour and a half later, and still is now, at lunchtime.)

We said our goodbyes to Dobby, who kept telling Harry to come as often as he felt like it, and that it was always an honour to serve Harry Potter, sir, and his friends, which made Hermione scowl again. 

On our way through the corridors, we met a group of students. Only after they had passed I realized what had been strange: The boys among them, although they had looked at me interestedly, had not shown any of the symptoms of the Veela charm, no dazed looks, no open drooling mouths, no bumping into pillars with turned heads! I mentioned my impression to Hermione.

"I've noticed too," she told me. "Something must have happened to that Veela charm of yours. I wonder what it may have been… Shall we do some research in the library?" She added with an eager tone in her voice.

I was surprised at her sudden cooperativeness.

"I'd love to; I don't understand it in the least, but it's a relief, I can tell you… I do hope it will last."

And we agreed to meet tomorrow morning to start our research.

***

"Are you using the Equanimity charm?" I asked Cedric when we met at dinner.

"Yes, of course," he replied. "It's become something like second nature to me by now."

"Although I sometimes have to remind him to take it off when he is with me," Cho said wickedly, and Cedric turned an interesting shade of red. "Why are you asking?"

"It's just that there is something strangely different. Can you just take it off for a moment - for an experiment?"

"All right," Cho consented, "but I'll keep an eye on you..." I think she was only half joking.

"Finite Incantatem!" Cedric said, pointing his wand at himself.

"And? Do you notice anything?" I asked.

He looked at me in a puzzled way.

"Not really. I mean, I see you are a good looking girl and all, but there's no difference in the way I feel - no, there's definitely no charm about you - I mean, no magic charm..." he trailed off, sounding confused.

"That's what I wanted to test," I told them. Something seems to have happened to that stupid Veela charm. It doesn't seem to work any more - not that I miss it," I added hastily.

"Indeed," Cho said. "Now that you mention it... of course, most of the guys are still ogling you, but there's nothing of the mental deficiency in theose looks any more. I wonder why?"

"You can imagine that's what I've been wondering about ever since I realised it. Hermione Granger promised she'd do some research about it with me..."

"Good idea. If anybody can find out about this, it's her."

***

Gabie has recovered from being sick, and she has promised not to eat so much ever again. I'm quite sure, however, that she'll have for gotten about this promise by tomorrow. And she insists on spending as much time with Harry Potter as she can, while she is here. There has been no message about her having to go back yet, which is wonderful. I wonder how long it will take _Maman_ to realise she wants her to come back.

And of course I'm eager to find out what happened to the Veela charm...

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Thanks to all the reviewers. Sorry I overlooked that tiny detail of Moody/Crouch confessing to Harry that it was HIM who told Cedric about the second task. Even if I suppose it happened after Fleur told him, Cedric would still have mentioned it. Naturally, this is getting more and more of an AU story, even if I intend not to contradict book 4 if I can help it. The next few chapters will be more or less my own invention, because there are still four months to cover until the third task.

I'm also thinking of doing a sequel to this, which, of course, will have to be completely AU. Tell me if you think it's a good idea.


	21. Chapter 21: Research

Hi, everyone! I'm sorry (again) if this takes some time, but there are always all those stupid everyday things to attend to that make it possible to afford the luxury of a computer, among other things.

Thanks for all the reviews. Here are few comments:

HexWa - obvious, isn't it?

Unreet - yes, I was somewhat disappointed at OoP, too. I'm still working out how to get her to Hogwarts.

Paradox - Funny, really. I'm a 200% H/H shipper, too, as far as canon is concerned, so I'll readily join you running around with that banner of yours. Only, in this story it's not possible, as it's going to be H/F. Anything else would have no point at all. You'll have noticed that I've made Fleur as young as she can possibly be, and after all, Harry is a special guy, so why not? That's why I say it's going to be more and more A/U, too.

WickerB - yes, Dobby is great, I'll try to get him into the next chapter.

Molassesturtle - sorry, we won't find out quite yet.

Blazinangelwings - glad you like little Gabie, she's not easy to write, I can tell you. And, yes, of course it has.

Warbl - yes, everybody goes H/H or H/G, it's kinda boring. But I do hope it's not a GOOF story ;)

Panuru - of course it's inevitable, but I do my best to contradict canon as little as I can.

Sorrow - yes, Fleur on her own back in France wouldn't be worth writing. I'm just trying to work out how to get her back to Hogwarts.

Pantherocker - right, there are only a handful good H/F stories around, so I'm trying my humble best to add one.

All this said (hope you're not half asleep by now) let the story begin. There's not much action here, but I hope you'll enjoy it nevertheless as it will explain a lot of things.

Chapter 21 Research 

Feb. 27th, 1995

It's Saturday, and this means no lessons. I was a bit worried about Gabie, I really want to spend as much time with her as I possibly can, but on the other hand, I really want to know what happened to the Veela charm. Fortunately, Iphigenie and Margaux have offered to spend the morning with her, so I'll be free to start on my research.

+++

I met with Hermione in the Hogwarts library after breakfast. 

"Hi," she said with a – very slight – smile.

"_Bon jour_," I replied, perhaps a bit stiffly. She had been looking daggers at me most of the past months, after all.

She couldn't but notice, and said, "Come on, I know I haven't been too friendly recently," – the understatement of the century! "– But I was afraid – "

She stopped herself, and blushed.

"What?" I asked innocently. I suspected it had something to do with Ron and the way he used to react to the Veela charm, but I wasn't going to tell her that.

"Oh, forget it," she said briskly. "I suppose we can just as well try to become friends." Her smile was more open now, and she extended her hand, which I took happily enough.

+++

There are quite lot of books about Veela, their habits, their culture, and their powers in the Hogwarts library. But they are almost exclusively about pureblood Veela, and don't have anything about people like me who are only quarter.

"It's a strange feeling," I said to Hermione some time after the tenth or twelfth book. "I mean, normally you do this research for academic reasons, and now it's something that affects me personally, and nobody else-"

"Not quite," she interrupted with a dry grin. "The thing we're looking for does affect quite a lot of other people."

"_Touché,_" I returned her smile. "But still, the way it used to affect _them in turn affected __me."_

"Let's have a break," she said, pushing the heavy tome in front of her away. "Care for a walk in the grounds?"

"Yes, why not? A breath of fresh air will do us good after all these dusty old books."

She went back to the Gryffindor tower to fetch her cloak, while I waited for her in the great hall. Some students walked past, and I was satisfied to note that there was no sign of the Veela charm returning. 

Presently Hermione returned and we went outside. The air was fresh and cold, but the warm sunshine was quite comfortable.

"Tell me about the Veela," Hermione said. "I know, of course, that they are wood spirits and originally come from eastern Europe, something like fairies… but that's more or less it, indeed I hadn't even heard of them before the Quidditch World Cup."

"World Cup? They were not playing, were they?"

"Of course not!" She looked at me as if I was out of my mind. "They acted as _cheerleaders_, as the Muggles would say. You know, dancing and singing, and generally looking gorgeous to heat up the atmosphere…"

"Yes, it's one of the legal uses of the Charm. There are only a few these days…"

"They say it can be switched on and off at will. Ron said you did it on Cedric…"

"What utter nonsense!" I burst out angrily. He really is Ron the Moron to me! "Only full-blooded Veela can do that. Just as they have the power to transform into birds. They are natural animagi. Unfortunately for me, this is not true for half- or quarter-bloods. That Charm, if you can call it that, seeing as I have no control over it, turned up rather abruptly when I was fourteen. It's something to do with my hair, too, I can't even cut it. And, of course, I can't transform."

"This Veela Charm, can you tell me more about it? What does it do?"

"Well, you'll have seen the main effect for yourself at the World Cup."

"Yes, every male person around started behaving in the stupidest ways, bragging all over the place, trying to do idiotic things to show off…"

"And Harry?" I couldn't resist asking. "Did he behave like the rest?"

"In the beginning, he did," she answered, grinning at the memory. "Wanted to jump down from the top box, or something… But when I shouted at him, he came to his senses all right. Unlike some others," she finished darkly. (I believe she was talking about Ron.)

"That's the most harmless form of the Charm, you know. It's not directed at a particular person, but spread out over a large number of people. If a Veela – a full-blood Veela, that is -deliberately directs her Charm at one person only, she can make them do whatever she wants. It's one of the most powerful Charms, or perhaps Curses, some say it's equally strong as Imperius, even. Obviously, I can do nothing of the sort, whatever people may think."

"You say _person_, does that mean the Charm can also be used on females?"

"That's right, but only if the target leans that way."

"How come that there are mixed – marriages, I suppose I'll have to say – among Veela and Humans? There must be, of course…"

"Or freaks like me wouldn't exist?" I remarked bitterly. "That's what you mean, don't you? Well, believe it or not, even Veela are capable of real love. Of course it's much harder for them to find a partner that loves them for who they really are; usually, they marry among themselves – yes, there are male veela, too - but time and again there are humans who are immune to the Charm, and then, very rarely, such a pair will get together. This is what happened to my grandmother."

"I never thought-" to Hermione's credit I must say she looked taken aback, "I mean, there are loads of awful stories how all those boys fall in love with a cruel Veela and pine away for the rest of their lives after one fateful kiss…"

"Ah, that kiss!" I said heatedly. "In all these clever stories of yours, does it ever say anything about the other side? How the Veela herself feels? Do you know about the strong magic that's connected with that kiss?"

"I just assumed it had that devastating effect on the human, you know, like some incurable addiction…"

"Quite right. Only not so easy. I believe you think of it as an absolutely one-sided thing. Like the big bad Veela sneaking up on the poor boy with the sole aim of making him a miserable wreck for the rest of his life. Trust me, it's not like that at all. The important thing is who starts it, who is kissing who first."

"I don't get it. A kiss is a kiss."

"For humans. With Veela it's very different. It's true that the Veela kiss forms a life-long bond, whether you like it or not. But it only binds the one that _initiates the kiss. See? It's the very first kiss that's important. So if the guy, in the usual male manner, stupid and without thinking, just giving in to his hormones, is the one to kiss the Veela, then it will be __him who is bound to her for the rest of his life. She, on the other hand…"_

"Will probably be less than amused by the whole thing," Hermione said, catching on at last. "And who can blame her if she turns him away? Yes, I see it now…"

"I've always looked at it as some sort of justice," I told her. "Just imagine how awful it would be if it was the other way round! It shows that there is still something like free will, even where magic is concerned."

"And your grandmother? How did it work with her?"

"Ah, she's often told me about it! They met at the World Exhibition in Paris, in 1874. He was a young scientist, a muggle, by the way, not even a wizard; she says she was drawn to him at first sight. And just out of curiosity, she turned her Charm on him. She says she wanted to test him. Imagine her amazement when he turned out to be completely immune to it! Well, that was it, as far as she was concerned. They got married three months later."

"And their first kiss?"

"She says she can't say who started it. It seems they did simultaneously, and met halfway, so to speak."

"And did they live happily ever after?"

"They did, as far as _grand-mere told me. Of course, being a muggle, he died at the age of 87, but she still remembers him fondly. So, well, that's what you ought to know about the Veela Charm, the original one, that is. But it still hasn't got us anywhere near my own case."_

"I'm sure we will. And I am really sorry for all the awful things I've been thinking - and saying - about you. I think I understand what you must have felt like all these years. Let's be friends!" And she opened her arms, inviting me to embrace her, which I gladly did.

+++

In the afternoon, I took Gabie for a ride round the castle on my broom, which she liked a lot. There was no sigh of Harry, though, and she was disappointed. To say nothing about me! I have had quite an empty feeling all day, though I keep telling myself not to be stupid.

Feb. 28th, 1995

After a long luxurious sleep, I took Gabie for a tour to the village. Margaux and Iphigenie came with us. Of course, most shops are closed on a Sunday, but the sweet shop and the pubs, as well as the cafe (they call it a tea shop here) were open. We didn't feel like taking her into a pub, so we ended up in the teashop.

The place is a horrible accumulation of velvet and silky frills in colours usually associated with the stickier kind of sweets, but Gabie loved it. I really must work on her taste. We had some buns, which were reasonably ok, and some coffee, which was a mistake. I should have known! "English" and "Coffee" are two ideas that just don't go together. It being morning, and obviously not a Hogsmeade weekend for the Hogwarts students, the place was more or less empty, and we soon returned to the carriage for lunch.

+++

In the afternoon, I left Gabie in the company of Grisabel, and returned to the library to continue my research. 

Hermione was already there. I begin to wonder whether she actually sleeps in the library, too. After glancing through two or three books, she suddenly looked up.

"Come here," she told me. "I believe I've finally found something."

It was not much of a book, compared to the heavy volumes we had been heaving about, it could scarcely be more than a hundred pages, and its cover was simple blue canvas. _Human crossbreeding with magical species the gold title said._

"Yes, this does seem more like it," I agreed. I opened the book, and looked at the table of contents: __

_"Giants," _I read out, "_trolls_"  ("Ugh!" went Hermione.) "_banshees - fairies - veela! Yes! At last!"_

I took the book and settled down in a chair, but then I stood up again. 

"Do you mind very much if I check this book out with me? I'd prefer reading it by myself. I'll tell you what it says later on. Ok?"

She looked as if she was going to object, but then she just nodded. "I understand that," she said, "just go ahead, but tell me at dinner if you have found something interesting."

So I took the book and went back to the carriage.

Gabie was already tired of playing with Grisabel, and didn't want to let me read in peace. I was at a loss for a moment, but then I had an idea. 

"Wait a moment," I told her, and started rummaging among my things until I found the model of "my" dragon of the first task.

"Look," I said, "Why don't you play with this? I'm sure you know a few spells already to make it do things."

With a squeal of delight she took the dragon and busied herself with it on the sofa, while I could finally have a look at my book.

The book has a lot of stuff that is not new to me, but at last I reached the important part, and I must say it has done nothing to ease my mind, though it explains a lot of things. I'll sum up the most important parts here, although I doubt I'll forget them in a hurry:

In muggle and wizard history, half-Veela appear again and again, according to the book, such famous people as Morgaine and Delila, Cleopatra and Madame Pompadour were half-Veela. (I'm not sure if I should really believe this, but it doesn't make much of a difference, anyway.) It seems the author of this book is not one to appreciate women when they are strong-willed and independent, so I think I'd better read this with caution. Anyway, while half-Veela are not uncommon, it seems quarter-Veela like myself are much rarer. Apparently, most half-Veela remain childless. (The author suspects they are too selfish and preoccupied with their own career to bother having children, but I believe this is mostly due to his prejudice.) Therefore, he doesn't say much about quarter-breeds, and I have to be content with the facts about half-breeds and try to guess what may be different for me.

Well, according to this book, the original Veela Charm gets kind of diluted in half-breeds. It does not work in the Imperius-like way any more, but it is still possible to direct it at a single person on purpose. At the same time, what I like to call the "general" Charm, which affects everybody up to a certain distance in a diffuse way, is harder to control for the half-Veela. Also, although they can learn to be animagi, their natural ability to transform into birds is lost.

If I extrapolate this to my own case, it fits in well with my experience. While I've never possessed the REAL Veela Charm to switch on and of at will, the annoying diffuse version has always been present, and I've never had any control over it, just as the book leads to expect. So far so good, and nothing really new.

What follows is more disturbing, though again quite logical. It says that while for the full Veela, for the first kiss to have that fateful effect, it needs to be given with full erotic passion and intent, for the half-breed a feeling of friendly affection may already be enough. Now, again, extrapolated, this might mean that my grateful kiss could already have had that effect on me. The book doesn't really state it clearly enough, so maybe I'm wrong and it's not as bad as all that. Hold on, it's not "bad"! It's... oh, I don't know what it is! But it would explain the way I've been feeling ever since...

+++

After dinner I told Hermione what I had read. I had been toying with the idea not to tell her everything, but she's smart enough to notice if I keep something from her, and I'm absolutely sure she's going to read that book front to cover anyway, as soon as I return it to the library. I just told her what the book itself says, though, and kept quiet about my own ideas.

It was no use, of course.

"That would mean you and Harry-" she stopped, her eyes wide.

"It seems so, doesn't it?"

To my surprise, a huge grin appeared on her face.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing, really," she said, blushing profusely.

"What?" I insisted. "I thought we're supposed to be friends?"

"Well," she muttered awkwardly, "you see... Ron and I... and then there's Harry..." I had never seen cool and self-assured Hermione Granger like this. "I mean, he would feel left out... But now..." again she stopped, looking at me almost pleadingly.

"And now he just needs to get hooked up with me, and everything will be all right for you and Ron." 

She looked hurt.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like this. Actually, it does you credit. But how do you know it will ever work out? True, I feel very much attracted to him, it would be absurd to deny it, and to tell you the truth, this has not even anything to do with me kissing him... But do you even know what he thinks about me? He's immune to the Veela Charm, remember? For all we know, he might be madly in love with YOU."

She paled visibly.

"Do you think so? But that would be awful! I'd so hate to hurt him in any way... He's got so much on his plate as it is. What with Dark Lords and dementors..." she trailed off, her eyes glistening.

"I understand. I'll tell you what you can do, for yourself, and for Harry, and for me: You are together with him most of the time (and I don't mind admitting I sometimes feel jealous), so why don't you try to sound him out - on his ideas about ME, of course," I added as she seemed about to protest, "I'm being quite selfish here, and then tell me what he said? I realise he might never see more in me than a chance acquaintance, but I want to know."

""He'd be mad-" she started, but checked herself. "How stupid of me, he'd just be going for your looks again, it would be like the Veela charm thing, only worse... Yes, I'll see what I can find out.

"And nobody is better at researching than Hermione Granger," I told her, at which she blushed again.


	22. Chapter 22: Gabie's Gambols

Hello, everyone, here I am again. If the last chapter was perhaps a bit slow and without action, this one will make up for it, I hope. Also, as you'll se, it lays the foundation for the future AU development, which will only fully develop in the sequel that I hope to start on soon.

Question to the attentive reader: Where is the centaur's remark about the planets taken from?

Chapter 22 Gabie's Gambols 

March 1st, 1995

It's Monday, and normal lessons begin again. I've been worrying about Gabie. She is too young to join me in my lessons, and I'm afraid she'll get bored. But she laughed at me when I told her about it.

"Don't worry," she said with that sweet smile of hers. "I'll be fine. It's a lot better than being at home, I can tell you. So let's just enjoy it while it lasts."

She's right, of course. Strange that _Maman_ hasn't said anything about wanting her to come back. 

So I went to Maxime and asked her if she could help me get a couple of books that might be suitable for Gabie. It's a good thing she is such a great reader at her age.

Maxime was actually quite touched when I told her, something I've hardly ever seen her, and very nicely came up with a couple of stories about famous magical persons from all ages, from Medea to - and it gave me some shock, - Harry Potter.

Gabie squealed with delight when I pointed this out to her, and buried herself in it right away.

+++

It seems the teachers want to make up for the time lost with the Second Task, and have piled a lot of homework on us. Luckily, Gabie has not complained about being bored or lonely, so I guess it's all right. But she keeps talking about Harry all the time; she has read everything about him that she has been able to find, and I fear she'll pester him with questions after dinner. It's a piece of luck she's too young for me to be jealous of her...

+++

Sure enough, after dinner she immediately ran up to Harry, almost bursting with questions. She quite forgot that she couldn't talk to him without me interpreting for her, and started babbling at him in French.

"Hey, wait a minute!" he laughed. "I'm no good at French, you know, hopeless, even." He looked around, and caught my eye. "Hey, Fleur, won't you come over? We're having some communications problems here."

I felt myself blush like a stupid schoolgirl (well, I guess I AM a schoolgirl, and as for stupid, - well, I just don't know) and went over to him and his friends. 

We spent the next half hour or so with Gabie asking Harry a million questions, more or less from the day he was born until yesterday, and I was amazed at the patience with which he answered her. I'm quite sure if anybody else, - anybody his own age, that is, - had badgered him like this, he'd have lost patience long ago. After all, I know how touchy he can be when it comes to the The-Boy-Who-Lived part. But he answered even the silliest question she could think of, and I felt my heart going out to him for treating her so kindly. He did not even sound condescending in his answers, like teenagers tend to be when talking to small children, just friendly and patient, with a smile on his lips, and in those amazing eyes of his.

There were several things I had not known. What astonished me most was his account of his early childhood with his muggle relatives. I just can't believe how they treated him all those ten years. After his parents had been murdered by _Vous-savez-qui_, he was brought up by them, as they were the only relatives he had, and apparently there is some sort of security charm connected with them and their house; he doesn't know much about this himself, but this is what seems to be at the bottom of it. Those horrible muggles treated him worse than an animal, kept him in a cupboard under the stairs until his eleventh birthday, and never gave him so much as a hug! I find it almost impossible to imagine! (Though, come to think of it, when I try to remember when I got my last hug from my own mother...) It made me want to hold and comfort him, hearing about those years he spent in that awful family, always given to understand he was unwanted, a nuisance, and a freak. 

Considering this perfectly miserable setting, I was surprised to hear the light-hearted joking tones in which he described how he finally got his Hogwarts letter. And it was really a funny story - how his uncle and aunt tried to run from the letters, and how they were finally caught up by Hagrid (the Hogwarts gamekeeper, who is so very similar to Maxime in many ways). I can really appreciate his feelings about the magical world, and that he considers it to be his real home. And I almost cried when he told us how the Weasleys were the first real family for him that he had ever known. The most astonishing thing about it all was, though, how he managed to tell us all this without ever sounding as bitter as I would have expected him to be.

"They can't help it, I suppose," he said, after telling us how he'd been locked in that cupboard under the stairs for hours, just because his hair had grown back over night after they had had it cut at the muggle barber's. "They are horrified by anything even remotely different from their own small world..."

All during this, and it was quite exhausting to keep interpreting it; I noticed how Hermione was becoming more and more restless, shooting sideways glances at Ron all the time. Ron, on the other hand, was unusually quiet, as if harbouring a secret grudge. Now I think he is the kind of person that can get easily annoyed at just about anything, so I don't expect there is anything serious in it, but it was strange in a way. I also noticed how Hermione kept watching him anxiously, and how she seemed to get more impatient the longer Gabie's interrogation of Harry lasted.

Sensing all this, I finally said, "I'm afraid it's getting late, we'd better get back to the carriage." And although Gabie no doubt would have carried on for hours, I could get her to agree. 

"Harry is great," Gabie muttered sleepily when I tucked her in. "You're a lucky girl, Fleur."

She was fast asleep at once, so I did not comment on that remark.

Hermione's relief was almost tangible when we said our goodnights, I wonder why. 

March 2nd, 1995

The mystery of Ron's and Hermione's behaviour has been cleared up. When I went up to the library in the afternoon to see if I could find something more reliable and unbiased about Veela descendants, I came across Hermione (not really surprising), and asked her quite bluntly what had been the matter.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking embarrassed. "Of course you noticed. It was only - well, it was Ron's birthday, and we had prepared a surprise party for him in the common room. So we pretended to have forgotten, and that's why he looked so frustrated. And I was afraid if Harry and your sister were going on like that the others would get bored and leave. So that's why."

"I see," I said, trying to sound indifferent although it hurt to feel excluded. But of course I can understand her; after all the examples of Ron's susceptibility to the Veela charm, or perhaps pretty girls in general (I remember how he looked at Hermione at the Ball, and there was absolutely no Veela charm about her), the last thing she wanted was the chance of something like that happening at a party she had organised.

For that reason, I did not mention Ron's birthday when I met him and Harry at dinner, and made a point of staying with Cho and Cedric. This evening, Gabie's fascination with Harry had already cooled down, and she was happy enough to play Exploding Snap with us.

March 3rd, 1995

Another quiet and happy day, and still no owl from _Maman_ for Gabie to return home. Well, she is happy enough here, and as far as we are concerned, she might just as well stay until the third task.

March 5th, 1995

It's Friday already, and I can hardly believe it that it's already been ten days since the task. Still no news from home, thankfully.

In the evening, Cho showed me a magazine called _Witch Weekly,_ the leading tabloid of Britain. (Funny how the name means exactly the same as _Semaine Sorciere_, but they are probably run by the same international corporation.)

"Look," she said, grinning at me widely. "There's nothing these journalists will stop at."

The article she pointed out to me is about Harry, and was written - of course - by that awful Skeeter woman. It's entitled _Harry Potter's secret heartache_ and accuses Hermione of  "toying with the affections" of Harry and Viktor Krum. And, not enough, it also insinuates she might be using love potions for this purpose.

"It's a marvel they haven't made her a Veela," I laughed, handing the paper back. "How absurd! I wonder how she's taking it."

But apparently Hermione considered the whole thing as a huge joke, and when I asked her after dinner, she just laughed. "Well, _I_ know it's plain rubbish, so why should I care? Let them write whatever they want in their miserable rag. What do I care?"

Harry, however, seemed preoccupied and deep in thought. He just said hello rather absentmindedly to Gabie and me, and disappeared from the Hall immediately after dinner. I wonder what can be the matter with him.

I'm pleased to note that there is still no trace of the Veela charm returning.

March 6th, 1995

Today is another Hogsmeade Saturday for the Hogwarts students, and I'll go and take Gabie there again. I expect today the place will be a lot livelier than last Sunday. I expect Harry and his friends will be there too, but I didn't like to ask, as Harry still shows this strange behaviour, as if he was deeply worried and exhilarated about it at the same time. I feel sad, to be honest, that he won't tell me anything about it, but then I keep telling myself there is no real reason why he should. He doesn't know me, really, and if it is an important secret as it obviously is, there would be no sense at all in telling me.

+++

Indeed, we saw the three of them walking down the road towards the village ahead of us, and I was surprised to see Harry lugging a huge backpack along that was obviously very heavy. Also, I could not deny there was something almost furtive about them, as they kept looking around them all along the path. Then however, they disappeared in the clothes shop - Gladrags (I always feel that the second part is a very true description of their goods), and we lost sight of them. Gabie wanted to go in there, too, but I had a feeling that Harry would not have been too happy seeing us, so I persuaded to have another tea (not even Gabie with her strange taste for the English breakfast likes the kind of "coffee" they are making there) and cake at the small tea shop off the main road. There we found Cho and Cedric at one of the tables, and spent some time chatting with them. But somehow I had a feeling they would prefer to be alone, and so we didn't stay long.

When we left and returned to the High Street, we directly ran into Harry and his friends; they were accompanied by a large shaggy black dog that seemed to be especially attached to Harry, as it was constantly gambolling around him, jumping up at him, and trying to lick his face. 

"Hello," Harry said when he saw us emerge from the side street. He was trying to sound cheerful and easygoing, but I could tell quite clearly that he was not as light-hearted as he tried to appear. I noticed that his backpack, which had been so very heavy before, was now apparently empty.

The dog stopped, looked at us, and then came trotting over and started sniffing at us. I was not sure what to do for a moment, it was a very big dog, after all, its head not much lower than Gabie's, but it kept wagging its tail, and had a generally friendly air about it.

"This is old Snuffles," Harry said, and I was glad to see his happy grin as he said it. "We're good friends, aren't we, Snuffles, old boy?" And as if he had understood every word, the dog returned to him, doing his best to push him over.

"I never knew..." I started. "I mean, where did you get him? Is he yours?"

"Oh, you might as well say that I am his," Harry laughed, "or that he got me..."

"You see, Harry was kind of adopted by Snuffles," Hermione chimed in, and again I had the weird feeling from the way the dog was wagging his tail that he understood exactly what everyone was talking about. "We met him in the street some weeks ago, and since then he always finds us when we are here. He must be a stray, I don't think he belongs to anybody..."

"This seems to be likely," I told her. "He isn't a well-fed dog, to say the least, and look at the state of his fur - sorry," I added hastily to the dog, who had given a low growl at this description. "But he's a strange dog," I continued. "He seems to understand everything I say - does he have any magical qualities?"

"None that we know of," she said, perhaps a bit too hurriedly, and I didn't miss the quick glance she shot Harry, either. "He's just a normal dog, nothing special about him at all."

If I had been in doubt before, I was absolutely convinced now. There is something about that dog, and Harry and his friends are not going to let anyone in on the secret. However I knew better than to pursue the subject any further. At any rate, he seemed to be a friendly dog; he was jumping round Gabie, barking at her, and she was enjoying herself greatly. 

On our way back, we stopped for some butterbeers at _The Three Broomsticks._ The place was quite full, mostly with Hogwarts students. The noise, however, died down almost completely, to be replaced by a dull murmur. Probably for the first time ever, people's eyes were not on me on entering a room; everyone was staring at Hermione, and soon the volume of the murmurs increased. It was probably unfair, but I enjoyed it immensely not to be the centre of attention for once.

"The article!" Ron whispered to her fiercely. "I warned you not to annoy that old hag!"

"So what?" she replied, holding her head high. "Let them stare all they want, I don't - "

"Ah, the mudblood and her followers!" The pale blond boy that I had observed in the pub earlier was approaching, a nasty leer in his face. "Testing a new love potion on half-breeds, are you?" He shot Gabie and me a spiteful look. 

"Shut up, Malfoy," snarled Harry, before I had even quite understood that "half-breed" was meant for me and my sister. "We know you are a rotten customer, and I don't even mind any more. But you might at least keep a civil tongue towards our foreign guests."

While talking, he reached into his robes for his wand, and I saw Ron and Hermione had theirs ready, too. A warm and happy feeling rose inside me, as I heard Harry say this.

"Quarter-breed, if you must know," I addressed the blond boy, putting on my haughtiest manner, the icicles in my voice almost tangible. "And looking at YOU-" I prolonged the word, - "I'd not bet much on YOU being so pure-blood as you seem to think."

He seemed to go even paler than he was, tried to say something but then turned to leave. Looking at the back of his retreating head, I could not resist. 

"_Caput florealis!" _I muttered, and was satisfied to see flowers of different sorts and colours sprout from his head.

The others started laughing; the Malfoy guy looked back at us furiously, but at a loss concerning the reason of our merriment. 

"That's the beauty of this charm," I told them. "You don't feel anything on your head at all, so unless someone points it out to you, you won't have a clue what's happened."

"What did you mean, him not being so pure-blood as he thinks?" Hermione inquired. "There's hardly a wizarding family prouder of their blood-line than the Malfoys."

"Just look at him," I told them. "That hair, almost silver - doesn't it remind you of something, or someone for that matter?"

"You don't mean- " Hermione's eyes were wide, "he. he's part Veela himself?"

"I may be wrong, of course, but remember his reaction. I'm pretty sure there's something - how's that phrase? - fishy about him. I did seem to hit a nerve with him. Anyway, he needn't even be part Veela, in fact he's perhaps too pale for that, although you never know. But I'm quite sure Mr Draco Malfoy is not as pure-blood as he wants everyone to believe."

"But how come nobody ever thought of it? I mean, everyone knows they are one of the oldest pure-blood families of Britain, go back a thousand years or more!"

"I can't tell you, but money and power can do a lot of things, you know. I take it they are wealthy?"

"Stinking rich," grumbled Ron, and Harry added, "And mean like hell."

"So threats and bribes could have worked easily enough," Hermione mused. "If we could only find out if there's really anything in this."

"Ah, just forget it," Harry told her. "He's not worth it, really."

+++

At dinner, I tried to watch Malfoy, but the Slytherin table is too far off, and he was constantly in the company of those two thug-like guys who seem to be something like bodyguards for him, so I could not really notice anything special about his behaviour. 

Back in the carriage, Margaux told Iphigenie and me about her date with another Hogwarts student, but I only half listened to her, the afternoons events were too strong on my mind. I wonder if I'll find out more about Harry's secret.

March 8th, 1995

Another week of school has started. In spite of having to spend much time on her own while I'm doing schoolwork, Gabie is still happy to stay with me and we avoid the question of when she has to go back.

+++

At dinner, Cho told me that at breakfast something nasty had happened.

"Remember that article?" she began. "Well, people actually believe it, this morning Hermione got some hate mail, calling her names, and saying how horrible she was.  But one of them was not as harmless, it contained bubotuber pus, and she had to spend all morning in the hospital wing, getting her hands seen to."

And indeed, when I looked over to the Gryffindor table, I saw that her hands were heavily bandaged. I do hope she'll be careful with her mail in the next few days.

I tried to find out something about the strange dog from Cho, but she has never seen him in the village. But she also thinks it is possible that there is something special about him.

March 10th, 1995

Gabie got lost and found again! But I'm just too exhausted to write anything now, it will have to wait until tomorrow.

March 11th, 1995

I should have been warned, but of course I had completely forgotten how Gabie's eyes had lit up when I had told her about there being unicorns in the Forbidden Forest. 

After lunch, Iphigenie, Margaux and I left her in our room, where she was busy playing with several models of magical creatures that Maxime had given to her, and went to the common room, where we had to attend another deadly boring class of _Histoire de Magique._ When, after the lesson, we returned to our room to deposit our books, Gabie was not there. We did not think anything of it at first, and went through the dormitories of the others, looking for her, but nobody had seen her.

"I suppose she'll be playing outside," Margaux said, "It's a fine day."

So we went outside, and around the carriage, but she was nowhere to be seen. I was more annoyed than worried at this. 

"She'll have seen something that caught her attention, and gone over for a closer look," I said to my friends. "I'll have something to say to her when we find her!"

"She's so interested in magical creatures, isn't she?" practical minded Iphigenie said. "So perhaps she's somewhere near the gamekeeper's place? He's supposed to have several interesting specimen."

We wandered over to the gamekeeper's hut and I knocked.

Loud barking inside - from the sound of it it had to be an enormous dog. But I grabbed my wand tighter and knocked again.

The door opened and the huge figure of Hagrid, the gamekeeper, appeared. And I had been right, that dog WAS huge, too, like his master.

Hagrid IS intimidating to look at, and I could see my two friends shrink back. But I knew from Harry that he is really a very friendly person, so I asked right away if he had seen my sister anywhere.

"Aye," he said, and I had a hard time understanding the dialect he speaks. "Must be over there, with the nifflers." 

And he pointed rather vaguely towards an enclosure a short distance away. 

I had no idea what nifflers were, but I went over to the enclosure, my friends trailing after me. The enclosure contained several small animals that looked more or less like overgrown moles and were quite pretty to look at, but there was no sign of  my sister.

Dusk was beginning to set, and in the slowly fading light the dark edge of the forbidden forest was gradually taking on a menacing look. I started to feel uneasy.

"What do we do now?" Margaux asked uncertainly.

I stood musing for some time. Suddenly I remembered something my grandmother had told me when I had been given my wand with her hair in it: With the help of a spell, it would always lead me to a person with Veela blood.

"Wait!" I told her, groping for my wand in my robes. "This will help us find her! _Relocare!_"

The tip of my wand started to glow silvery white, and I felt a distinct pull. It wasn't a great surprise any more, although still not a welcome revelation, that the pull was towards the forest.

"She's in the forest," I told my friends, rather unnecessarily. "Listen, I can't expect you to go in there with me-"

"Rubbish!" Iphigenie said at once, "Of course we'll go with you - won't we?" 

Margaux nodded grimly. "Just see if you can stop me."

"But we should tell someone first," the ever practical Iphigenie said. "Why not just yell over at what's-his-name-"

"Hagrid. Yes, that's a clever idea. He's still there in front of his hut." And I shouted as loud as I could to catch his attention and pointed towards the forest. I couldn't tell if he'd understood, but I was anxious to find Gabie before dark, and so I turned and walked towards the forest, my two friends behind me, all of us with our wands ready.

Looking back now, I see it was a stupid thing to do, it would have been much more sensible to get help, especially someone who knew the forest,  but I was too worried to think clearly, and this must have clouded the others' judgement, too.

Anyway, my wand kept pulling me along, and soon we were marching along a narrow path between the high trees. The light was rapidly fading now, and the space between the huge trunks was already absolutely black. Strange sounds were all around us, voices of unseen creatures, the creaking of twigs and rustling of leaves. 

It was quite impossible, perhaps because of the magic of the forest, to judge any time or distance that we covered, but at any rate it was soon completely dark, with just the light of the moon slightly relieving the blackness of our path. The weak glow of our wands only made the darkness of the trees more impenetrable. 

Suddenly there was a new sound in the darkness ahead of us. We stopped and stood still to listen.

"It's human voices," Iphigenie whispered.

"Must be riders - I think I hear the sound of hooves," Margaux added. "Strange, riders in a dense forest like this?"

"Whatever, keep your wands ready and let's go on!" I said, trying to steady my voice.

Behind a bend in the path we suddenly found ourselves in a large clearing that had a grassy ground, in contrast to the mossy and sandy path. And in that clearing there were - 

"Centaurs!" I exclaimed, forgetting to keep my voice down.

Centaurs, about ten of them, apparently engaged with watching the skies. Of course my exclamation had been heard, and they turned towards us.

Of course we had learned about centaurs at school, and of course I knew they are a wise and proud people that can be very fierce when annoyed, but it's always a very different thing to find yourself eye to eye with a creature you know only from books and images. They looked intimidating, to say the least, and they did not seem exactly pleased at the interruption. 

"What are you doing in our forest, humans?" the one nearest to us asked in a very deep and angry sounding voice. The white moonlight gave him an unreal appearance, the reflection in his eyes added to his severe expression. 

"_Excusez-moi_" I began, but found myself interrupted by the centaur.

"I see," he said, and I thought his voice was less unfriendly, "you are not a full human, though these others are - What is your business in our forest at this time of night?"

"I'm trying to find my sister," I finally managed to say. "She has disappeared, and she is only a small girl and." I found it hard to keep my tears back.

"We do not welcome humans into our forest," he replied, and I already thought he had not heard me, but then he continued: "Humans are as arrogant as they are ignorant, but we protect the foals of all creatures. Come with me-" 

He turned and walked away from us. Something in his voice made me follow him automatically. When Margaux and Iphigenie started moving, though, the centaur turned his head:

"Keep back, humans, just the Veela."

So I walked after him, through the group of centaurs, who parted to let me pass. At the far end of the clearing, at last, there was Gabie! She was lying in the grass, curled up like a cat, fast asleep. I rushed over to her and folded her in my arms, all the anxiety finally falling from me.

"Gabie! You naughty girl! What- how - oh, I have got you back! Are you all right?"

"Mmmm" she muttered sleepily, reaching out for me without opening her eyes. I picked her up, and only now I saw the shining black stone hanging from her neck on a fine gold chain. I took it from her and turned to the centaur.

"What's this? Is it yours?" I showed the ornament to him.

His face was inscrutable.

"Jupiter aligns with Mars." It was the last thing I had expected.

"What?"

His gaze, which had been on the sky, returned and focused on me again.

"You have found what you came for, now go back!"

There was such finality in his voice that I obeyed without further delay and went back to my two friends who had been standing rooted to the spot, waiting for me.

"I've got her," I told them before they could start asking any questions. "Let's get away!" I was speaking in whispers quite involuntarily. They were completely dumbfounded, but they understood that it wasn't wise to stay any longer. So we turned back, Margaux now leading the way, with me last, carrying Gabie in my arms, still fast asleep.

Carrying her like this was not a good idea, I soon grew very tired and had to call a halt. 

"I can't go on like this," I said, panting. "She's getting too heavy."

But it was impossible to wake her so that she could walk by herself. Obviously, there was a charm of some kind on her. Thankfully, Iphigenie came up with the _Mobilicorpus_ spell, which helped us to float her along with us.

Of course we were getting tired and, being on our way out of the forest, we did not expect anything dangerous any more.

It was a mistake.

Luckily, the noise, the ferocious howling and the sound of a large creature rushing through the undergrowth warned us just in time. We had just huddled together, our wands pointing out into the darkness, when it was upon us: a snarling, yelping creature with yellow eyes and blinding white fangs that seemed to shine with a light of their own - a werewolf!

"Stupefy!" It was a lucky coincidence all three of us had been thinking of the same spell, so its combined force hit the creature full blast. Any normal animal would have been stunned immediately and for hours on end. 

Not so the werewolf. The spell did hurl it through the air and throw it back some twenty metres, and it even lay there for a second or two, but it immediately sprang up and renewed its attack with increased fury. 

"Wingardium leviosa!" When I asked her later what made her say it, Margaux couldn't explain, it did seem a stupid thing, one of the simplest beginner's charm to use on a creature like that, but it worked; the werewolf was suspended in mid-air, legs flailing helplessly.

But werewolves are powerful magical creatures, and the effect did not last long. Soon the beast was back on the ground, its fury only heightened.

But just as it was collecting itself for another attack, there was a sudden white light and a loud voice boomed:

"Reticulum argenteum!"

Out of nowhere, a silver net appeared, enmeshing the werewolf, which could not move any more after a few seconds, though it kept on snarling and howling all the time.

The first person I noticed when I was able to focus again was the enormous figure of Hagrid, the gamekeeper, who was now walking over to the werewolf. He was making low growling noises deep in his throat, and it seemed as if he was trying to talk to the beast, trying to soothe it. (It still seems to be a perfectly stupid thing to do.) Behind Hagrid, - and it was the surprise of my life, - there was Madame Maxime! Her face was very white as she motioned for us to come over to her.

"_Incroyable!"_ she said, her voice trembling. "How dare you - oh, I'm so glad we've been in time!"

"Madame-" I started, but she stopped me. "Don't say anything. We'll take about this tomorrow, and you will have a lot of explaining to do, believe me!" But in spite of the severity of her words, her voice sounded soft.

She marched us back out of the forest and to our carriage silently, and Hagrid followed behind us, carrying the captured werewolf. During all the commotion Gabie had never woken up, it was now perfectly clear she must be under a spell.

As soon as we arrived at the carriage, Madame Maxime ordered us to go straight to bed.

"But what about my sister?" I asked timidly. "She's still not woken up."

"We'll see about this tomorrow," she said sternly, and I noticed she had her voice completely under control again. "I expect the spell will have worn off until then, anyway. I'll see all four of you in my office right after breakfast."

+++

True enough, in the morning Gabie was awake and lively as if nothing extraordinary had happened. I refrained from asking her any questions, as I imagined Madame Maxime would do this soon enough. After breakfast, which I did not really enjoy, we went over to what she calls her office.

"Sit," she told us curtly. "Now I want to know exactly what happened last night. You'll start." She pointed at Gabie, who looked at her in alarm.

"I - I" she stammered. Madame frowned at her for a moment, then said in a softer tone: "Come on, I won't eat you. But it's more important than you can imagine that you tell me what happened."

Gabie pulled herself together visibly, and began:

"I was so bored, and so I went over to the hut, you see, and there were these cute little animals, all fluffy and furry, and I wanted to play with them and so I took one out to pat it, and then it ran away, and I went after it, and - oh it sounds silly, but it was always waiting for me and only ran off again when I had almost reached it, and so I found myself in the forest in that clearing. And - then I must have fallen asleep," she finished helplessly.

"And you re4ally think the niffler was waiting for you, was LURING you into the forest? Yes? When you reached that clearing, what did it do?"

Gabie thought hard.

"It's all so very hazy in my mind," she said slowly. "I believe it started digging, and - oh I can't remember, perhaps it was only a dream..."

"How did you find her?" Abruptly, Maxime turned to me. "How did you know where to go?"

So I explained about my grandmother's hair in my wand, and she seemed quite impressed and even made a note on a piece of parchment.

"Interesting," she said, more to herself, and then continued: "Tell me exactly where and how you came upon her."

I recounted last night's events and told her about the centaurs. When I mentioned the ornament, she interrupted. 

"Where is it?" She said so sharply that I nearly jumped. "Let me see."

After showing the chain and the stone to the centaur, I had put it in my pocket and had completely forgotten about it until now. I started fumbling in my pockets, and after some search finally found it. I was surprised when I looked at it in daylight. What seemed black is really a deep blue interspersed with golden sparks that seem to glitter and move below the surface of the stone. It looks very much like a moonstone, but it is far more beautiful and absolutely lovely to look at. I handed it to her and she took it carefully.

"Can the niffler have dug this thing up?" she asked Gabie, whose eyes were wide with astonishment.

"I don't know. I think I remember something gold, but I'm not sure..."

"All right, never mind. Listen: I will have to talk about this to Dumbledore, it's his forest, after all. I'll keep this thing to show to him, and ask his opinion. There may be nothing in all this, of course, and I do hope there isn't; but there are some signs we dare not ignore... You'll get the stone back soon, in fact it may be vital for you to have it... Tell me," she addressed me again, "did you hear the centaurs say anything about the stars they were watching?"

"Wait- the one I talked to - he said - _Jupiter aligns with Mars_ - yes, I believe that's what it was. But I have no idea what he meant."

"But he did not mention anything about the moon being in some house?"

"No, I'm sure he didn't."

"Good." I think there was relief in her voice. "You may go to your lessons now. As no accident has occurred, you will not be punished, but of course I'll have to tell your parents about this. And I must insist that you don't tell anybody about all this unless you are given leave to do so. And to make sure you don't- _Tacete!_" She waved her wand at us. "now you won't be able to talk about it to anyone, not even among yourselves. No questions-" she said sternly when she saw I was about to speak. "You will be told whatever you'll have to know in due course. But for the moment it's better if you know as little as possible. It might just burden your minds unnecessarily. And you-" she said to Gabie, "stay near the carriage, and under no circumstances go near that forest again. Understood?"

With these words, we were finally dismissed. We are all completely mystified, of course. Her words had quite a sinister sound to them, and we have no idea whatsoever what's going on. I do hope she'll tell us more soon. It's a good thing her spell does not include WRITING about the events, and I guess I just could- But no, that would be asking for trouble more than it's worth.


	23. Chapter 23: Morgaine's Heir?

So here I am once again with a new chapter that, hopefully has some surprises for all of you. Thanks for all the nice reviews. 

None – yes, exactly, good guess!

Broadwaypoetess – you have a point here, of course. Trouble is I don't know any French worth speaking of. Also, we must imagine that this diary is really written in French, so she won't make her own accent appear in it. Her English is obviously very good, perhaps she did start learning it at an early age, or perhaps it's something to do with magic?

Fanship – Glad you think I've got the French clichés right. Say, would you care to help me out when I need some French phrases and things? Mail me if you like! And yes, the quotation is from Orwell, but I don't think it's 1984 (it wouldn't fit into that book I think) – may be mistaken though.

WickerB – Yes, I thought Sirius needed to be shown from an outsider's POV. From the way he behaves in OoP, we can imagine he doesn't really know how to be a convincing dog. As this is going to move away from canon anyway, I'm still debating with myself whether to keep Sirius alive if I ever get to do that sequel I've been talking about.

EvilReviewer – Sorry to disappoint you, but Harry ISN't going to do that. Why should he?

Chapter 23: Morgaine's Heir? 

March 12th, 1995

It's a weird feeling, and sometimes I even wonder if all the events in the forest were not only a dream. We are still unable to talk about that night, but we keep throwing each other nervous glances. Maxime has still not said anything to us, so none of us has any idea what all this may be about. As today is Saturday, I expect we won't hear anything before Monday. Gabie is quite depressed; she expects to be sent home after the adventure.

Of course, Cho, Cedric and the others have noticed that there is something wrong, but all I can tell them is "Don't ask!" And they are all kind enough to respect that request.

Hermione has been getting those hate mail letters every morning, she is absolutely fed up with them by now and winces whenever she sees an owl from afar. 

March 13th, 1995

Nothing new; in addition, it's raining, so we can't even go out. I don't think I've ever done homework as carefully as today, to keep my mind busy. 

March 14th, 1995

Monday morning. I've had an uneasy night, full of strange dreams that I have almost completely forgotten by now. I just seem to remember a pair of awful red eyes, but I'm not even sure of that. Quite on the contrary to me, Gabie has been sleeping soundly all the nights after the adventure in the forest. I do hope Maxime will tell us something at last. 

***

She didn't show up all morning, but after lunch she summoned me.

"Are my friends and my sister to come too?"

She thought for a moment, then she said, "Well, I suppose they'd better. You are going to tell them anyway, and this will avoid any misunderstandings."

So we found ourselves in her office again, and she started her explanations without further ado.

"I have talked to Dumbledore," she told us. "And we agree that it is better if you know about this. It is, of course, still possible that we are wrong about it, but it would be rather a lot of coincidences… There are actually two things in these events that seem to be remarkable. First, it is quite unusual for a niffler to behave like that one obviously did. They are hardly clever enough for that. Secondly, and this actually emphasises the first point, the ornament, or rather the pendant, is either a perfect forgery or an extremely rare magical stone…"

"It's just a moonstone," I interrupted, "a very beautiful one, but still…"

"It may LOOK like a moonstone," she said, frowning at my insolence. "But I assure you it is not. You have got a moonstone of your own, right? Have you got it with you?"

"No, I'm afraid I haven't. I don't usually wear it. Shall I fetch it?"

"It doesn't matter. You can always compare the two stones when you are back in your dormitory. Well, Dumbledore and I suspect that this may be a _lapis hesperidis_…"

"But they are just a legend!" Now it was Iphigenie's time to earn a frown for interrupting.

"I'm glad there is at least one among my students to know about this stone," Maxime said dryly. "Can you tell the others what you know?"

"Well," Iphigenie began, seemingly embarrassed. "The _lapis hesperidis_, also called the stone of the evening star, is said to have fallen from heaven ages ago, and some say these stones are parts of a broken star. The descriptions of their qualities are rather vague, it is said that they protect you from spells, or that you can read people's thoughts with its help. And the legend says – no, it's silly…"

"What?" insisted Maxime.

"The legend says that Morgaine used to have a necklace with…" her eyes went wide and round. "You mean this is it?"

"I'm not saying it is, and I can't be sure that it is not, either. All I can say is that Dumbledore and I performed some spells and tests on it that prove that it is not your normal moonstone. It has not, at any rate, enabled us to read anybody's thoughts," she allowed herself a small smile, "but it seems to have the ability to deflect some spells, which a moonstone has never been known to do. So, no matter whether this is really Morgaines necklace, - and I personally doubt it, - it may be a useful thing to have."

"But Madame," I said, "There must be more to it than that. I mean you seemed very much concerned when you talked to us last time…"

She hesitated, and if it hadn't been Madame Maxime, I'd have said she felt insecure.

"We are not sure, Dumbledore and I," she finally said. "But I suppose it's better for you to know about all this, even if it should turn out to be wrong. As you will be aware, the events seem to indicate that someone wanted Gabrielle to go into the forest, and was using the niffler for that purpose, though we have absolutely no idea why. Now we all know that the forest is a dangerous place, especially for a small girl that won't be able to defend herself, and indeed it's quite remarkable that nothing happened to her. A further safe guess (though we just might be wrong here) is that you were intended to find the ornament with the stone. What we don't know, however, is whether it was meant for Gabrielle or Fleur. The two things seem to be in direct contradiction to each other: The dangerous venture into the forest, and the finding of the stone, which has positive, protective, qualities."

"Couldn't it be TWO forces at work here?" Iphigenie enquired. "I mean, a malevolent one that wanted to do harm to Gabie – and another one that protected her and helped her get the stone?"

"Indeed," Maxime replied. "This is a possibility, and it would fit events quite well. But again, we have no clues as to this. Another thing, and this makes the affair more remarkable still, is the thing the centaur said…"

"_Jupiter aligns with Mars_," I repeated. "What does it mean?"

"You will find the details about the planets in your Astrology books, I'm sure," she was back to her old detached and cool self again. "The alignment of these two predicts danger, violence and death. If, in addition to that, the moon enters the seventh house, the danger increases and may affect a larger number of people or remain over a longer period of time. But they didn't say anything about any house, did they?"

"No."

"That's something. So, what I'd suggest you do is this: Keep a lookout for strange things, and report them to me at once. Anything that strikes you as unusual, mind you, coincidences, things you find, dreams… Whatever it is, it may be important. As long as we do not know the force that is behind all this, we'd better be more than less careful… Even if it might be quite harmless after all. You can go now."

"Can we talk about it now?" Margaux asked.

"I don't think there can be any harm in it, rumours will already have spread, anyway."

With these words we were dismissed. 

The first thing I did back in the dormitory was putting the mysterious stone next to my moonstone. And indeed, now that I looked at them together, it was clear that they were very different. The moonstone is much duller in comparison, without the internal fire the other stone possesses. But most remarkable is that there seems to be a repulsive force between the two: Whenever I put them closer than some fifteen centimetres to each other, they are pushed apart as if by an invisible hand. 

I can't say that I feel at ease now. Quite on the contrary. This whole affair is still as mysterious as it was before, if not more so. 

***

Harry and Ron left right after dinner, so there was nobody there to disturb us. And I went straight up to Hermione and told her about everything that had happened in the forest. I left out the part about Morgaine's necklace, because I thought it too fantastic for a rational mind like hers.

"If there's anyone who can bring light into this business, it's you," I told her. 

She listened to me intently and without interrupting.

"It IS weird," she said at last. "If this was Harry… but why would You-know-who be interested in you?"

"Because he is smitten with my beauty?" I suggested in a weak attempt at being funny. Hermione frowned at me.

"Not him, believe me," she said dryly. "Let me get this straight. _Lapis hesperidis_, you say? Well, that's something to start from. If it's really so famous, there should be plenty of information about it in the library. I have a free period tomorrow morning, and I'll see what I can find. Concerning the astrological stuff, though, I'm not so sure. These things have a tendency to be rather vague and a question of interpretation. Sorry, I must be off now, Ron needs me to help him with his potions essay."

From her blush I guessed there was more to it than just a potions essay, but I didn't say anything.

March 14th, 1995

What I feared and expected has finally happened. This morning an owl arrived demanding that Gabie goes home immediately. It's not surprising, after the adventure in the forest, but we are both sad to have to part. I wanted her to keep the necklace, but she insisted that I take it.

"You still have the last task to do, and you might be glad to have something to protect you," she said, proffering the ornament. "I'll be perfectly safe at home, even if it's going to be dull, but who knows what awaits you in the next couple of months."

There is no arguing with my sister when she has set her mind to something, so I accepted and let her put the fragile golden chain round my neck.

Presently, Maxime came to take Gabie away and "send her back home," as she put it. (There must be some way to get back to France that is much faster than our carriage; I believe they just used that for showing off.)

I'm going to miss her, but I can always use the _virtualis _Charm to visit her, at least.

***

The most surprising thing has happened! Tonight after dinner, just when I was getting ready to leave the table, a girl that I had never talked to before came up to me. I had seen her sitting at the Ravenclaw table, of course, but had never taken any notice of her. She is quite much younger than I am, probably third year only, and more than a head smaller than me. Unlike most of the Hogwarts girls, she wears her sandy hair open, and long, almost down to her waist. But the strangest thing about her are her eyes: a pale almost silvery blue, they seem to bear a constant dreaminess and detachment.

Well, this girl came up to me and said,

"So you are the heir."

"What?" I must have looked les than intelligent.

"_Her_ heir," she giggled at the pun, which it took me a couple of seconds to understand. What I did NOT understand, of course, was what she was talking about.

"Heir?"

"Morgaine's, of course. You're wearing her necklace." She was speaking in a matter-of-fact tone that excluded any possibility she might be joking.

To say I was surprised would be putting it mildly. I gasped. I had not told anyone about Maxime's speculations of the possible link between the legend and the necklace, yet here there was this small girl talking to me as if she knew everything about it, and even more than Maxime had told us.

"When she left for Avalon," the girl went on as if it was the most natural thing to do, "she hid the _Hesperion_ and put a spell on it. Only the true heir of Morgaine will be able to find and to wear it. And you ARE wearing it." She finished with satisfaction in her voice.

"But..." I stammered, "But.. How do you...?"

"My dad told me about it," she went on in that same earnest tone. "He says there are more things between heaven and earth than you can read about in all the clever books. And this is one of those things."

I was just opening my mouth when suddenly a small boy came rushing up to the girl.

"Watch out, Loony Luna!" he yelled, grabbed the satchel she was carrying and raced off again.

If I had expected her to be annoyed, I was very much mistaken.

"Oh dear," she said, quite calmly. "Kevin again... he just can't leave it... well, I must go after him, there's no telling what he might do with my bag..." she turned to go, but stopped herself. "She was half Veela, you know," she told me, flashed me a smile and was gone.

"What's Luna been up to this time?" Cho, who had been watching, asked. "I wouldn't take anything she tells you too seriously, you know," she went on, seeing my expression, which must have been quite dumbfounded. "She sees strange things, and she keeps telling the most absurd stories. Believes in Snorkacks and things, too"

"Snorkacks?"

"See what I mean?" she chuckled. "As I said, she is a nice enough girl, but her imagination just runs away with her. What was she on about?"

"Oh, something about this necklace," I said, showing her. "Something about it being an heirloom of Morgaine's... But I don't know how she can have known about it, I've not told anyone..."

Cho shrugged.

"Rumours, probably. Everyone knows what happened to Gabrielle in the forest, and everyone knows you found this necklace. So it's not so surprising; I guess she heard some of those numerous legends that are about Morgan and Avalon, and what not, and so she constructed her own little story from it. If I were you, I'd just forget it."

She is probably right, I know how kids can dream up the strangest stories of their own, but I have a strange feeling nevertheless. 

March 15th, 1995

Talked to Hermione about the stone, but she has not been able to find anything new about it.

"All the sources stress that it's a legend, and that there is possibly nothing in it," she told me. It is assumed that the _Lapis Hesperidis _has the qualities you have mentioned, protecting you from spells and letting you read people's thoughts."

"This, at least, I can assure you it DOESN'T," I said to her, grinning. "Maxime says it does deflect spells, but I haven't tried it myself yet."

"So why don't we?" she asked. And we agreed to meet on Saturday to do some experiments together.

March 19th, 1995

After an uneventful week today I'm going to meet Hermione and the others to find out more about the supposed lapis hesperidis. Margaux and Iphigenie have said they want to come along, they are just as eager as I am to know more about this mysterious affair.

***

We went to the quidditch broom shed right after lunch. Even though it's quite cold compared to Beauxbatons, the afternoon was sunny and calm, so I took my broom along.

Margaux teased me, of course.

"In for some flying lessons again?"

I didn't bother to reply. 

Harry, Ron and Hermione were already waiting for us, and I saw with satisfaction that Harry had got his broom, too.

"Expelliarmus!"

A jet of red light shot out towards me, seemingly from nowhere. Before I had time to react in any way, I felt pushed forcefully backwards, but managed to keep my ground and only stumbled a pace or two before the light disappeared.

"What -?" I began, completely at a loss for words.

"Sorry," Hermione was grinning at me widely, lowering her wand. "Thought it would be a good way to begin our experiments. Take you by surprise, you know. And it did work, didn't it?"

"Thanks, I needed that. And what if it hadn't?"

"So what? You'd have been blasted off a couple of feet and landed on your precious backside. The grass is quite soft around here."

I had a strong feeling she had done it out of mischief rather than scientific curiosity, bit I didn't tell her that.

"So we know there IS something special about this stone," Iphigenie said. "And we know that it can protect the bearer automatically; you don't even have to be aware you are going to be attacked. Now what do we test next?"

"We might see if you can block the spell WITHOUT it," Hermione suggested, but I wasn't having any of that. I was thinking of the things that strange girl, Luna, had told me. 

"Let's test if someone else can wear it to the same effect," I said, taking the necklace off. When I touched the stone, it  felt warm in my hand. "Who wants to give it a try? How about you, for a change?" And I offered the chain to Hermione. 

"Oh, it's just fair, I suppose," she said putting it round her neck. "But you'll catch me if I fall, won't you?" she added anxiously to Ron.

"Don't worry," he replied, "I'll be here, right behind you."

I raised my wand.

"Expelliarmus!" I shouted, and watched the red light dart out of it. The beam hit her straight in the stomach and hurled her off her feet and into Ron's arms, who was standing about half a metre behind her. He caught her with surprising presence of mind, but the force of the spell was so strong both of them flew off another two or three metres.

"Ouf," came a muffled sound from Ron, as he landed in a heap on the grass with Hermione on top of him. 

I stepped over towards them and held out my hand to help Hermione get up, although I had the impression she was in no great hurry to do so.

"So that's another question answered," she said when she had finally got to her feet again and straightened her robes. "What does this tell us, now?"

"That Ron is good at cushioning falls?" Harry teased, and she went an interesting shade of red and gave him one of those dagger looks that she had been reserving for me for several months.

"It tells us that this thing doesn't work for everybody," Iphigenie stated. "We can't be sure, but it seems likely that Fleur is the only person for whom it does, especially as the odds are that she was MEANT to find it in the first place."

"Right," Hermione had regained her composure. "Which doesn't make the whole thing any easier to understand, quite on the contrary. The important question is WHO wanted you to find it? If we can answer this, it will help us a good deal."

"This girl, Luna something, told me a weird story," I began, and finally told them all about the 'heir of Morgaine' legend. "But Cho says she is a bit strange and believes in the most absurd things, so I don't expect there's much in it," I finished.

"Ginny's told me about Luna," Ron, who had picked himself up from the ground too, said. "They are in some classes together. She says Luna often sees things nobody else does and has a tendency to believe things the more easily the more absurd they seem."

"Hold it, Ron," Harry interrupted. "Muggles don't believe in wizards, either, and yet they - WE - exist. By the same logic, there may at least be something in those legends. Just because most people don't believe them doesn't mean they can't be true. I'm not saying they ARE, mind you, but you shouldn't rule out the possibility."

"So, are you suggesting that it may have been Morgaine who wanted me to have the necklace?"

"It seems the only explanation that would make sense, wouldn't it?" Margaux mused. 

"But she died some fifteen hundred years ago!" Hermione almost shouted.

"She went to Avalon!" Iphigenie corrected calmly.

"Avalon!" Hermione snorted. "Another of those stories! Why not Atlantis, for heaven's sake?"

"Indeed," Iphigenie said with a twinkle in her eyes, "there are historians who claim that Avalon and Atlantis are the same..."

"Oh bother, you're not taking me seriously!" Hermione said in a huff.

"Wait a minute," Ron interjected. "Isn't Morgaine supposed to have been an EVIL witch? I mean, think of  what she did to King Arthur…"

"Male chauvinism," Margaux said in that pert way of hers that has always made her less than popular. "If you look at the stories more closely," she went on more heatedly, switching to French, "you'll see she was treated awfully by almost everybody; moreover, for all those hundreds of years, it was always men who handed down the story, and they never really appreciated a strong female character like her, so no wonder they made her into an evil witch."

"Wow, I've never heard you like this," Iphigenie's voice sounded almost awed. "I didn't know you could be so emotional about dry historical facts."

"Oh, it just annoys me when people keep rehashing the old prejudice again and again… Anyway, I for my part, am perfectly sure that Morgaine, – IF it is her necklace, and IF it was her who wanted you to find it, - does not have any sinister reasons for it. She was half Veela, too, wasn't she?"

I nodded.

"There you are! Another link that makes this theory more plausible. I say, Fleur, this necklace may come in very useful in the last task!"

Carried away, she had said all this in French, which left Harry and the others somewhat out of the conversation; but she caught herself and switched back to English to tell them what the argument had been.

"I believe you are right," surprisingly, it was Harry who said it. "Don't I know how people can shift facts and distort stories to fit their own ideas… And at any rate, I'm pretty sure that, whatever may be at the back of it, this necklace is a good thing for you to have found. Might even give you some advantage over me in the Third Task," he continued, giving me a big smile. "What do you say, let's do some flying now, shall we?" 

"Oh yes, let's!" 

And I got on my broom and shot off.

We soared high up into the air, and I enjoyed the feeling of freedom, but just as well the knowledge that I was together with Harry again, where none of the others would care to follow us. 

Determined to prove myself, I got the CdF to do things I'd never have thought possible even a couple of months ago. When I finally went into hovering mode next to the hoops, Harry, who of course was immediately beside me, looked at me appreciatively.

"This is really quite good," he told me. "And I won't add 'for an amateur' this time. Honestly, your technique has improved a lot, and I don't expect there is much you can still learn…"

I felt myself blush furiously at the compliment. 

"But I'm still nowhere near what you can do."

"Perhaps; but as McGonagall told me in first year, I'm a natural talent. It's no virtue of mine, I seem to have been born with it. But, with  some more training, I don't see why you shouldn't get as good, too."

Embarrassed, I did a sudden looping, and then landed next to the others, who had been watching us from the ground.

The sun was starting to go down already, so we agreed to finish our experiments on the stone and said our goodbyes.

I am not really any the wiser concerning the necklace, more confused than ever, rather, but at least it has been an enjoyable afternoon.


	24. Chapter 24: More Mysteries

Hello everybody! Here is a new chapter with a new development that I hope keeps you all wondering. 

Chapter 24 – More Mysteries  

March, 23rd, 1995

It's surprising how quickly everything returns to normal, even after an exciting and frightening experience like ours. It's all back to lessons, and homework, and the occasional chat with my friends, among whom I can now also count Hermione Granger. Had an owl from Mother, too. I had expected her to blame everything on me, to rant and rave about neglecting my duties, and irresponsible behaviour, and what not; even if she wasn't really worried at all, she'd at least have thought it educational. But she was surprisingly cool about Gabie's adventure, said these things simply happened and everything turned out well, anyway; it's completely unlike her.

I'm still not any wiser concerning my feelings for Harry. We talk to each other nicely enough whenever we meet in the castle, and I find myself enjoying every minute of it. Thankfully, I don't feel any of the desperate, crippling longing that I've read about, and I have no trouble sleeping or eating at all, though I tend to daydream about flying together with him rather frequently.

At any rate, the Veela charm seems to be gone for good. Even Ron (I still call him the Moron to myself), who seems to be particularly susceptible to it, has not shown any signs recently. This is a very good thing, too, as I wouldn't be able to look at Hermione as my friend otherwise.

March 27th, 1995

With the help of the Virtualis charm I visited Gabie at home. I found her in her room as I knew I would. She was surprised to see me, of course, but it was nothing like last time. I admire her for reacting so fast and finding it so easy to stay calm.

"Oh, it's you," she said coolly, and only the sparkle in her eyes gave her excitement away. "I thought you might come to see me one of these days."

"If you aren't happy to see me, I can just go again," I told her in what I thought to be a severe voice, but she didn't buy it.

"Rubbish," she said, now grinning at me widely. "Come, let's go down to the pond, it's a nice day, and Maman is not going to find us there, too."

So I visualised the lake, and patiently waited for my sister to arrive, which she duly did after a couple of minutes. I had almost forgotten how lovely our parks with the ornamental lakes and fountains are, especially in early spring. Naturally, as opposed to Hogwarts, lots of flowers are out already, and the gardens are a sea of colours. The sun was in a cloudless deep blue sky, and was quite warm, although my virtual body could not feel it, of course. 

When Gabie arrived, breathless from running all the way, I was again touched by the loveliness of her appearance, and sorry for not being able to hug her.

"How are you?" I said, "Has Maman been giving you a hard time?" 

"You won't believe it," she told me, "but she's been awfully nice, really. Didn't reproach me at all, just said it was an unwise thing to go into a forest all by my own, but she understood I was feeling bored and everything…"

"She wrote me a letter, and she didn't get mad at me either. Are you sure she knows exactly what happened?" 

"I don't know, you see. I assumed Madame Maxime had told her what happened in the forest, so I did not think I had to tell everything again. I mean, she did not seem too excited … Actually, now you mention it, she didn't even ask me too many questions… Just how I came to go into the forest, and how I got out again… Anyway, I was asleep when you came to fetch me, so there was not much I could tell her. I don't even remember the werewolf, you see."

"And – what about the necklace?"

"We never talked about it, if you mean that. I have no idea, however, if Maxime told her about it."

"So maybe she doesn't know about it?"

"Possibly. Tell me, did you find out anything about it?"

So I told her about our experiments, and she laughed at my description of Hermione falling on top of Ron.

"I bet they enjoyed every second of it," she giggled.

"Well, they did seem to take their time getting up again," I agreed. "Listen, Gabie," I went on, „we don't know whether Maman knows about the necklace, but somehow I have a feeling that we'd better not tell her anything about it. Don't ask me why..."

"Yes, she is the kind of person that does not exactly inspire your confidence," she replied, and the bitterness in her voice went straight to my heart. "I won't tell her. But it will be useful in the third task won't it?"

"I expect it will. But, you know, there is something else, and even stranger about it..." 

And I told her what that weird girl, Luna, had said. "Crazy, isn't it? But then, everybody says she is strange, and has the funniest ideas..."

"No," she said earnestly. "There must be something more to that girl - Luna, you say? - Just the fact that she recognised the stone that you had not told anybody about proves it. If I were you, I'd go and ask her what else she knows. She may be able to tell you something useful. Like how to use it to read someone's thoughts, you know. Now wouldn't that be fun?"

"And VERY useful in tests and exams," I agreed, happy that she had found back to her usual light-hearted self. "Now, I'm afraid you'll have to go back again, before anyone starts wondering where you have gone. But I promise to come and see you soon. And don't tell Maman I've been here; this is another of the things she'd better not know."

April 1st, 1995

What started out as a harmless prank of Margaux and Iphigenie (Silly, I'd call it, but harmless, nevertheless), has turned out as some more mystery. We have no idea what to make of it, and of course we also don't know whether to tell anybody about it.

I was aware, of course, that it was April Fool's Day, and so when I found a charred slip of parchment net to my plate at lunch saying in strange old-fashioned writing,

"If you want more information about the STONE, come to the large elder-bush at the edge of the forest."

There was no signature, but I felt quite sure that it had something to do with my two friends, whom I saw looking at me with a very suspicious expression. In fact, they seemed to have a hard time to suppress their giggles.

"Look at this," I told them as earnestly as I could, pretending not to notice their merriment. "What do you make of it?"

"Give it here," Margaux said with an obvious effort, and I noticed Iphigenie murmur something inaudible, perhaps some charm to help both of them to keep calm.

I handed them the note.

"Very strange," I said. "Do you think I should go there?"

"Of course," Iphigenie told me, now looking perfectly serious again. "You want to know about that stone, don't you?"

"You're right. But that bush is so near the forest. Do you think it's quite safe?"

"Don't worry," Margaux said. "There's quite some distance in between. And it's broad daylight, too."

They were both obviously eager for me to do what the note said.

"All right," I said, and added, innocently: "Why don't the two of you come along? Whatever it is, it may be useful to look at it from different points of view afterwards."

"Ah, well, I 'm afraid I can't," Margaux stammered. "There is that Potions essay I have to do..."

"I'll come," Iphigenie said quickly, sparing her the trouble to go into more complicated explanations. So it was obviously Margaux, who planned to stage some performance or other over at the elder bush. I didn't show my satisfaction and turned to Iphigenie:

"When do you think we ought to go there?"

This took her by surprise, and she shot Margaux a questioning glance.

"I'm not sure," she said hesitantly. "Let me see - it's half past twelve now, - how about in half an hour, at one?"

I could see Margaux nod very slightly. But I was not going to let them off so easily.

"Why?"

"Well..." now it was Iphigenie's turn to stammer. "I think - eh - it's exactly the middle of the magical noontime, between twelve and two, you know."

"Magical noontime? Never heard of it-" I laughed inwardly seeing her face, and went on, "but you're the clever one, so I'm sure you know all about it. You'll have to tell me some time."

She looked very relieved.

"So we'll go there at one."

Soon afterwards, Margaux disappeared quietly, ostensibly to do her essay, and a few minutes later Iphigenie and I left the carriage to go over towards the forest.

The bush was still quite bare, with just a tinge of green beginning to show, and as we approached, there was absolutely nothing remarkable about it.

"There's nothing there," I said to Iphigenie, but the moment I had said it, a figure appeared next to the bush. Even though I had expected something of the kind I jumped. The figure, a female form, deeply veiled in various shades of blue, seemed to hover slightly above the grass. A glance towards Iphigenie showed me that she was not surprised at all. I decided to play along with their joke.

"Who are you? And what do you want with me?" 

"Morgaine of Avalon," the figure replied in a hollow voice, which, however, I had no trouble to recognise as Margaux'. "To tell you about your mission."

And now, quite suddenly, it happened: A shiver went through the figure, and she began to glow with a cold blue light. I heard Iphigenie gasp beside me.  Presently, the figure spoke again, but this time the voice was completely different, resounding like a huge bell, yet strangely clear, with a silvery undertone. Definitely NOT Margaux' voice at all.

"When Water and Fire are married, let the Dar One beware of the scorpion's sting."

There was a blue flash of lightning, and before any of us could as much as open their mouth to speak, the veiled figure collapsed in a heap at our feet.

I can't say how long it took until we were able to move again, but as soon as we could, we bent down ad started tugging at the veils. Soon we had uncovered Margaux' face, which was deadly white. Her eyes were closed, and her breath was shallow, but she didn't seem to be hurt in any way. Within a few seconds she opened her eyes.

"How did you do THAT?" Iphigenie demanded.

"What?" she asked in a whisper, looking at us blankly.

"Come, no use pretending any more. Your performance was great, but-"

"What are you talking about? I didn't do anything, well, I did say that first thing about the mission, but then everything is a blank. Tell me, what happened?"

"Are you telling me you don't know what you said?" Iphigenie sounded incredulous, and I didn't blame her. But something told me that Margaux was not shamming.

"You started glowing blue all over," I told her, "and then you said something about water and fire marrying..."

"Did I"? She sounded genuinely surprised, and now Iphigenie believed her, too.

"And something about a dark one bewaring of the scorpion's sting," she went on. "And then you seemed to explode and fell down like this."

"Amazing. I swear I don't remember any of it. It's creepy. As if something or someone had taken possession of me..."

"Well, you don't seem any the worse for it," I said trying to sound more light-hearted than I really felt. "Get up and see if you are completely all right."

Together we pulled her to her feet. She shook herself and, to our relief, agreed that she was fine. We kept standing near the bus for several more minutes, but nothing happened, and so finally we returned to the carriage. 

We have talked this strange event over again and again, but we have not the slightest idea what it could have been about. If Margaux is right, and she was really possessed, as she calls it, then WHO was talking through her? And, of course, WHAT, if anything, is the message? "When water and fire are married..." So much the worse for the fire! I've never heard such nonsense before! And the other thing about the scorpion... 

It's probably best, as Margaux says, to sleep on it. Tomorrow we'll have to make up our minds whether to tell Maxime, though.

A/N: Now, my friends, any guesses as to the strange event? Prizes for those who get it right! 


	25. Chapter 25: What does it all mean?

Hello everybody! I know, I know, it's been a long time since I last updated, but something called real life takes its toll... Thanks to all you great reviewers out there. I never thought I'd ever get one that long! Well, here part of the mysterious message is explained (though it does not really explain much, or at least I hope so). I'm a bit disappointed at you people; I'd have expected someone to at least guess what the part with the scorpion was about. So I'll give you another chance to have a go at the water/fire thing. And no, definitely no wedding bells for Harry and Fleur, not for a long time! (Harry is not even fifteen now, remember!)

**Chapter 25: What does it all mean?**

April 2nd, 1995

In the light of the new day everything seems so ridiculous that we have decided not to tell anybody anything.

"After all," said Margaux, "I don't want a lecture from old Max about being immature and toying with things we don't understand, you know how she gets..."

We all know exactly what she was talking about, and so we agreed to remain quiet about the weird business. However, I'll tell Gabie, there can't be any harm in that. And who knows, sometimes she has the strangest ideas. I'll see that I find the time to visit her again soon.

Just at the moment, though, we are all extremely busy with all sorts of homework. Seems the teachers want to put in as much as possible before the Easter Holidays.

April 8th, 1995

It has been a hard week, but it's finally over. We handed in our last papers yesterday, and now the holiday week has started. (Not that we didn't get things to do during the holidays, no way!)

Several of the Beauxbatons students are growing restless and have started complaining about being "cooped up here in this boring old carriage", without anything to do outside of the lessons. I must say I don't blame them; it's really not easy to see why all the rest have to stay here. Of course I am glad that I don't have to remain here all on my own, but I can see their point.

Maxime was less than amused when she found out. She had all of us assemble in the common room and gave us quite a piece of her mind. The usual stuff about being ambassadors for our school, and it being a shame that some were not willing to disregard their petty personal interests in view of the greater goal.

"What goal?" I could hear Armand grumble in a low voice. It was not low enough for Maxime, and earned him a couple of hours of detention, so there were no further complaints.

At dinner, the Great Hall was more or less deserted; most of the students have obviously gone home for the holidays. There were hardly more Hogwarts students there than the Durmstrangs and us put together.

I had not seen much of Harry during the last weeks, and so I was especially happy to see him there with his friends.

"Hello," I said, walking up to them. "Why haven't you gone-" I checked myself. "Sorry," I said to Harry, "I should have remembered... how stupid of me-"

"And we are keeping him company," Hermione intervened to dispel the tension. "My parents are at some dentists' convention, and I dare say they are happy enough not to have to look after me besides all those conferences."

"And it's quite a treat," Ron added, "to be the only Weasley around for a change."

"Yes, one Weasley can be more than enough," Hermione said teasingly, and we all laughed.

April 9th, 1995

Saturday, first day of the Easter break. Margaux and Iphigenie have said they want to go for a walk together, and they have given me the distinct impression, although they haven't said anything, that they'd prefer to be on their own. They have become a bit secretive since that prank they wanted to play on me, and the mysterious outcome.

I have considered visiting Gabie at home, but decided against it. The weekend isn't a very good time for this, there are sure to be some guests, and I know only too well that my mother will require her to be present so she can show off her sweet little daughter. I have a whole week for that, anyway.

Think I'll go flying again, the weather is quite mild and sunny for this time of the year.

Played wizard's chess with Harry and his friends after dinner. Surprising that Hermione is not a good player at all, I'd have expected she'd be very good with that logical mind of hers, but in fact she was easiest for me to win against. Harry was pretty easy, too, somehow I seemed to know in advance which moves he was going to make.

Everyone was surprised when I beat Ron, too. Apparently he is a natural talent at chess, and always wins. True, he put up some fight, but in the end it was not so hard, after all.

"How can you expect me to concentrate on a chessboard, playing against a Veela?" he grumbled and although, seeing Hermione's face, he had the presence of mind to grin widely, I'm not sure if he was entirely joking.

April 10th, 1995

Grisabel has got a boyfriend! In the middle of the night I was woken by loud caterwauling outside. I got out of bed and looked out of the window. There I could see her engaged in what appeared to be a song contest with a large ginger cat that I had run across now and then in the Hogwarts corridors. When I opened the window to silence them, she looked up at me, and I could have sworn she was grinning. Then they both stopped their duet and disappeared out of sight.

In the early morning light, I woke up again, and found both the animals curled up in my bed, side by side, sleeping deeply. I envied them, in a way.

Grisabel's friend is actually Hermione's cat! (Well, as far as a cat can be ANYbody's.) She brought him along at dinner, and was quite surprised when he jumped straight on my lap and started purring loudly.

"Consider yourself honoured," she said to me. "He doesn't do this with many people."

The cat's name is Crookshanks, which I don't think is a very nice name, though I must admit it describes him rather well.

Hermione was delighted to find that I like cats, while Ron looked at me in a moody sort of way.

"He doesn't get along too well with Crookshanks," she said, nudging him. "Perhaps he is jealous, are you, Ron?"

Ron tried to hide it, but it was quite obvious to me that he was embarrassed, which makes me suspect that Hermione wasn't too far off the mark. As she hasn't seen Grisabel yet, I invited her to come over to the carriage some time during the week.

April 13th, 1995

I showed the carriage to Hermione today. She was very impressed by the sophisticated magic involved, and she made friends with Grisabel at once.

After some hesitation I asked her, and I felt my cheeks burning as I said it:

"Some time ago, I asked you to - well - do some investigation for me..." and as she looked blank, I went on, "about, you know, Harry, and, eh, what he thinks about me."

She smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, really. He doesn't talk much as it is, I mean, of course he talks about the usual stuff, school routines, and homework, and things, but it's not very often we get to talk about things that really matter, see?"

"It's probably asking too much," I said, feeling disappointed, though I was not even sure what I had expected. "Does he ever talk about me?"

"Oh, well, after that last time the two of you went flying, he said something about what a good broom you had, and that you were quite a talented flyer-"

I couldn't help grinning as she said it.

"And after the chess game he said how it was funny that he had the impression that you always knew in advance what moves he was going to make..."

"Strange, I remember having the same idea."

"Perhaps you're on the same wavelength," she said jokingly.

If we only were!

April 15th, 1995

I went to see Gabie again today, and found her in her room as I had expected. By now, she was not surprised any more at seeing me appear out of thin air, though she still finds it hard not to rush and embrace me. It's one of the things I love about her.

"Mother has a visitor," she told me presently.

"So?" Mother frequently has visitors, she likes playing the charming hostess and great lady. The only unusual thing, perhaps, was that it was not weekend yet.

"She's trying to keep this one a secret! She likes all those huge parties, normally, with all the important people around her, and can't get enough of it all. Remember how she even invited those reporters the other time? And now this is only one single man. I'm not even supposed to know about him. It was just by chance that I saw him arrive just about an hour ago. I was just looking out my window, when he Apparated in front of the main door. A moment later she came out of the house, looked around in a very furtive way, - but not up to my window, - and walked away with him to the pavilion. It was all very suspicious."

"Maybe she is having a secret love affair?"

"No," she said, and as there was not even the faintest trace of a smile in her face I knew it must be something more serious. "Not her. Besides, if you had seen him, you'd know- He is not the sort of person anybody would look at twice-"

"Now, who would YOU look at twice?" I tried to tease her, but she ignored me and went on.

"Besides, he gives me a creepy feeling, there is something sinister about him..."

"How can you say that, you've barely seen him at all?"

"But that's just the point! Even though I only looked at him for no more than a minute, less perhaps, this impression was so very clear. I wish you'd use this charm of yours and go and have a look at him. I'm sure you'll find that I'm right."

There was something unusually urgent in her voice.

"You mean spy on them?"

"Yes, I know it's not nice, and there'd be the most awful trouble if you got caught, too, but aren't you curious?"

I had to admit that I was.

"The pavilion, you say?"

"Yes, there are all those bushes there, you know, so you can hide pretty easily. Just have a short look at that man, and come back as soon as you can."

"All right, you win. I only hope I remember the pavilion well enough to visualize it."

Luckily, my memory was accurate enough, and presently I found myself next to the rococo garden pavilion. Luckily I had arrived in the middle of one of the bushes, perhaps two metres distant. (I must say it's a strange feeling what with all those leaves and twigs though your immaterial boy.) And indeed, there was my mother, wearing one of her everyday gowns (they still cost as much as some people earn in a month or two), which was another sign that this couldn't be a normal visitor. For her visitors, she normally puts on her extravagant robes to impress them. Sitting next to her on the bench, was the man Gabie had been talking about.

At once, I saw how perfectly absurd the idea of a secret love affair was. Now apart from the fact that my mother does not even remotely understand the meaning of the word love, if she really did engage in any affair, she'd go for the athletic superman type, the broad-shoulders-slim-hips type of guy, with tons of muscles, not choose a slightly potbellied short man, a whole head smaller than her, with sparse greying hair, a sharp nose in a pointed face and watery shifty eyes. No, definitely no affair of any kind!

On the other hand, I noticed very clearly what Gabie had meant by 'creepy feeling'. I could sense it very strongly, an aura of malevolence emanated from him an almost tangible cloud of- I can't even now think of an expression to describe it. But it was obvious that this man was up to no good.

Unfortunately, they seemed to have finished their conversation the very moment I arrived. They both stood and started to leave the pavilion. As the path would have led them dangerously near to my bus, and as they were not talking anymore, anyway, I decided it was better to leave and return to Gabie.

"Now?" She asked simply.

"You are right, there is something weird about that man. Well done to notice it so clearly. And no love affair, too!" I added to ease the atmosphere.

She didn't say   
'I told you so', which was nice of her.

"Did you see what they were doing?"

"No, unfortunately they had just finished whatever they were talking about. Probably some business thing, though. They didn't behave in an exactly friendly way towards each other, businesslike, yes, and distant, but not angry or anything..."

"But if it's business, why the secret meeting?"

"Could be many reasons, others might want to go in for the same thing, most likely."

"Or it might be illegal!"

"You're reading too many pirate stories, Gabie. And then in the books, the pirates are always the noble ones, too."

We agreed she would keep her eyes open for other unusual things, though, and I would come see her on Sunday.

I'm not really sure what to make of all this. Probably it is none of my (or Gabie's) business, anyway. But that man did give me an uneasy feeling, too.

Only now that I'm writing this, back in the carriage, I realise I've completely forgotten to tell her about the strange behaviour of Margaux.

April 17th, 1995

Paid a short visit to Gabie in the morning. Sundays are usually days when our mansion is full of guests, so I had to be especially careful not to be seen. Also, the guests always want to see my sweet little sister, and mother is only too happy to present her like a performing monkey, playing the violin, singing, and making cute intelligent conversation...

She had not noticed anything out of the ordinary. The stranger had not appeared again, or at any rate, she had not seen anything of him, and mother was behaving quite the same as always. So it seems there's really nothing about the whole episode, and we will never know what it was, most likely.

This time, I did not forget and told her about Margaux pretending to be Morgaine. She did not laugh, and seemed to consider it very earnestly.

"Unless Margaux is a VERY good actress," she said, "-and you think she was not shamming, do you? - There has to be something behind this. I have no idea what it may be, water and fire marrying, and all that stuff, but - hey what was that other thing? Something about a scorpion?"

"Let the Dark One beware of the scorpion's sting."

"You're a Scorpion, aren't you?" she looking at me excitedly.

I gasped. "Yes, of course I am! How perfectly idiotic of me not to think of it! Do you really think - it can't - what would it mean?"

"That you are a danger to some 'Dark One', obviously." She said it so matter-of-factly that there didn't seem to be any other explanation. "So the only thing you'll have to figure out is who that 'Dark One' may be."

"Do you know, I'm not really so keen on finding out," I said. "Doesn't sound like something very nice. And anyway, there's no way water and fire can _marry_, is there?"

"Right. But be a good girl and look out for any dark ones that you may happen to meet."

"And do what?"

"Sting them, of course," she was now grinning widely.

Before I could reply, someone was at the door, and I thought it wise to return.

It is all very well for Gabie to joke about all this, I have a feeling she isn't really convinced that Margaux was not making it all up; but I do wonder what it can all be about.

When I was back in the carriage, I wanted to tell these latest ideas to my two friends, but I could not find them anywhere. They seem to hang out together quite a lot recently. Perhaps I should talk to Hermione about it.

In the evening all the Hogwarts students that had been away for the holidays were back again, and the hall was buzzing with their talk as usual. Everything seemed so normal that again I felt ridiculous thinking of the absurd message and taking it seriously.

Cho and Cedric look happier than ever, I believe they spent the holidays together; they have eyes for each other only, and I felt left out a bit.

Several owls arrived, among them Harry's beautiful snowy one. She was carrying a rather large parcel, which the three of them opened readily. Harry had got a rather large Easter egg, but I could not see what the others had. I noticed, though, that Hermione looked disappointed and angry. There was also a letter, which the three of them read together. From their expressions I gathered they were not too pleased at what they were reading. However, I didn't want to appear nosy and so I didn't ask them.

April 18th, 1995

I told Margaux what Gabie had pointed out about the scorpion thing.

"Honestly and truly," I said, "did you act out the whole thing or didn't you?"

"I did not!" She flared up angrily. "I've been telling you this before. What do you expect me to do? Filch some veritaserum or what?"

"Ok, I believe you," I said soothingly. "It's only- it may be important, don't you think?"

"Sorry for exploding like that. Yes, I suppose it may be important. Something strange happened, so much is certain. And it would be too much of a coincidence if that scorpion was NOT you..."

"But what about that fire and water thing?"

"I can't imagine. It sounds so absurd."

"Well, it's the condition for the other part about the 'Dark One'. So as long as that does not happen, I won't have to worry about any Dark Ones, nor they about me."

"But-" she said suddenly, and her eyes went wide, "what if that Dark One, whoever that may be, won't risk the chance of water and fire marrying?"

I must say she has a point here, and I don't particularly like it.


	26. Chapter 26: Avalon?

A/N: Even if I have said it before, sorry for the long interval. Here is a new chapter which, I hope adds more mysteries to the story than it solves. Again you can smell and actually see, this time, a (THE) rat. And here's another question to the attentive readers: "I have many names", the myterious lady says. Can you guess any of her other names? Keep your fingers crosse for me so that the naext chapter doesn't take so long again.

Chapter 26 Avalon?

April 20th, 1995

So the new term has started full force, and if we ever thought we were having much homework before, we can think again. I personally suspect that it's Maxime's way of dealing with the rebellious tendencies at the beginning of the Easter break. It would just be like her: Pile so much work on us that there will be simply NO time for thinking of anything beside it. I don't think it's quite fair, but I suppose that's not anything that would bother her.

April 24th, 1995

Tonight something strange happened. I can't even say what it was that woke me up. Some unfamiliar sound or something, possibly, but nothing really loud, as my roommates went on sleeping perfectly soundly. Anyway, I woke up, and now, consciously, my attention was drawn towards the dresser next to my bed by some faint scratching noise. And in the beam of moonlight that was coming from the window I could see it quite clearly: A rather large rat rummaging among the things on the dresser.

Now Mireille, of course, would have screamed her head off, but I've never been afraid of rats, though this one was really a lot larger than normal. It's strange, now I think back, but my first thought on seeing it was, "What's it looking for?" Of course it's stupid, but I had the distinct impression this rat was after something specific.

Well, I may not be frightened of rats, but I don't like my dresser messed up. So I sat up in my bed to shoo it away. It must have noticed my movement, for it stopped, sat up on its hind legs and looked straight at me. And now I must admit I WAS frightened. The look it gave me – there's no other way to put it, - was so full of a mixture of fear and hatred that it quite took my breath away for a moment. Its eyes fairly shone with it as it hissed at me, jumped down and immediately disappeared in the shadows.

I didn't want to wake the others, so I only looked through the things on the dresser in the moonlight. Finding everything undisturbed, more or less, and feeling sure the rat wouldn't return after I had frightened it away, I went to sleep again, not without thinking that it would actually be Grisabel's task to keep things like that off. (But she wasn't there, probably on one of her excursions with Hermione's cat.)

"Are you sure you weren't still half dreaming?" Iphigenie asked dryly when I told my friends the events, and now in broad daylight I dare say she may be right. But there WAS something weird about that rat, I'm sure of that!

April 30th, 1995

"You know what today is?" Margaux asked at lunch.

"Saturday," I replied, having no idea what she was trying to get at.

"Yes, silly," she grinned at me. "I mean what date is it?"

"Uh – the thirtieth, isn't it? So what?"

"So what, she says! It's Beltaine Eve, of course!"

And as I stilled looked at her quite blankly, she went on:

"The most magical day of the year, - well, after Samain, that is…"

These names seemed to ring a bell somewhere in my mind, at last.

"Yes, now you mention it, I seem to remember, didn't we hear about these ancient Celtic festivals in _Histoire de Magique_? But what are they to do with us, more than a thousand years later?"

She rolled her eyes at me.

"You shouldn't talk so lightly about magical days. Beltaine, the beginning of the summer half of the year,-" she went on in her best lecturing voice, "is, like Samain at the end of it, a day where magic is particularly strong, and ghosts return to walk the earth."

"Well, they do that over at the castle all year round," I quipped, which made her roll her eyes again.

"You know what I mean. And they also say that it's a particularly effective time to find out about your future…"

"I don't think I want to know about that, thank you very much. Didn't you say yourself that you can't change the future? So isn't it much better not to know?"

That seemed to shut her up effectively, at least for some time.

May 1st, 1995

I'm not so sure about Beltaine any more. It's been a weird night indeed, and I'm not really sure if I haven't been dreaming, after all.

At dinner I mentioned what Margaux had said to Hermione, who scoffed at the idea of something like a particularly magical day.

"What nonsense," she said. "There is absolutely no reason for it. It's just one of these ancient spring festivals, and nobody can even be sure it's supposed to be this particular date in the calendar. You know, don't you, that it goes back to the times of the ancient Celts more than two thousand years ago, and they didn't even USE the same calendar we have today! Now, summer solstice, or something, yes, that would at least have an astronomical basis, but why the first of May, for Merlin's sake?"

She really can get very emphatic when her sense of logic feels injured.

Harry, who had overheard this, looked at her doubtfully.

"But you'll have to admit that weird things do happen at Halloween. Just look at the last four years… And as far as I know, there's nothing astronomical to that day, either."

She seemed put out, but only for a moment.

"But there was nothing magical about all these things, was there? Just people carrying out their nasty ideas on that day. And I've never heard about anything special happening on Mayday Eve, anyway."

"On Beltaine Eve the door to Avalon is open for those who can find it." Turning, I saw that strange girl, Luna Lovegood standing next to us, looking at us with those uncanny eyes.

"Oh yes," Hermione said sarcastically. "And I suppose you'll find Merlin himself there to give you an autograph."

"He might, but you can't take the parchment back through the door, you know," Luna said perfectly earnestly. Apparently it cost Hermione quite an effort not to shout at her.

I, however, remembered what she had told me about Morgaine's heirloom, and suddenly I was not so sure anymore.

"Do you know how one can find the door?" I asked, to Hermione's great displeasure.

"Actually, the door finds you, of course. It's your choice then whether to enter." Luna was looking straight at me now. You might find some answers there, you see…"

Hermione snorted, but didn't say anything.

"Is it dangerous?" I asked her, fascinated by her matter-of-fact tone. I still don't know what made me take the absurd things she was saying so seriously.

"No, I don't think so, as long as you avoid the jabberwock, of course…"

"And the mome raths, I suppose?" There was a slightly hysterical touch to Hermione's voice.

"Not really," came the serene answer. "They can be a nuisance if they come in large numbers, but dangerous, - no, not very."

Hermione had pulled herself together again.

"Tell me, Luna," she said with a false sweetness, "how do you know about these things?"

"My dad tells me," Luna answered calmly. "And you don't have to pretend you believe me, because you don't."

And with these words she sauntered off, her head high.

(I have no idea what jabberwocks and mome raths are, probably some of Luna's pet creatures, like those Snorkacks she keeps going on about.)

I don't recall why, but I just couldn't get to sleep. After lying awake for what seemed an eternity (but of course can't have been more than an hour or two), not daring to stir so as not to wake my roommates, whose peaceful breathing (or, in Margaux' case, gentle snoring) was filling the room, I finally crept out of bed, and went out into the common room where I stared blankly into the fire for another indefinite period of time. Vague thoughts and images floated through my mind, of which I just remember Harry's emerald green eyes…

At last, thoroughly annoyed with myself, I decided I could just as well get out of the carriage. It was a fine moonlit night, and quite mild, too, so I got my broom and soon I was gliding peacefully across the pitch black mirror of the lake. For some reason or other, I didn't feel like speeding, but was content hovering silently above the smooth surface, listening to the distant sounds from the forest. Over in the castle, there were only a very few lights on, and the massive bulk of the towers and battlements was black against the velvet blue of the starry sky.

I'm not sure how it happened, but after some time I noticed a bright circle of light in the still surface beneath me. I thought it was the reflection of the moon, first, but it slowly grew and after a fem minutes was much larger than the moon itself. Curious, I floated down, closer to the surface, while the light kept still growing stronger and at last beams of blinding white seemed to reach out of the water towards me.

I don't remember doing so, but I must at some time have passed through the surface of the lake (or rather, the part in the space-time continuum where the surface ought to have been). All I do remember was a sudden flash of white that extinguished my vision for a moment and made me close my eyes instinctively.

When I opened them again, I found myself in a completely strange place. The night was as dark and starry as ever, and the moon was still high in the sky, but the castle and the lake had disappeared. I was in a large circular clearing, with a dark wood at the edges, and directly in front of me, there were three huge slabs of stone placed in a way that they formed a gigantic doorway, perhaps four or five metres high. And in that doorway, a veiled figure was standing, motionless.

I stood there, frozen to the spot, unable to move, but my mind racing. Of course I had not taken my wand along! But, strangely enough, I did not feel frightened. There was something so peaceful about the place that it was unthinkable to be afraid.

"This must be a dream!" I told myself, but immediately I realised that the very thought that you may be dreaming is the surest sign that you are not.

The veiled figure, while remaining standing in the stone doorway, extended its arms towards me, and, as if drawn by some invisible force, I slowly walked towards it. I didn't realise, but I must also have extended my arms, for when I was near enough, I felt my fingers touch cool soft hands.

Only now my eyes focused on the figure in front of me. She was clearly female and about as tall as I. Her slender form was covered in a long flowing robe; I could not discern its colour in the moonlight, it looked silver grey to me, but may have been any other light colour. Her head was covered by a hood, and the silhouettes of her face were just faintly noticeable behind her veil.

I can't describe the sensation at the touch of her hands; I just remember a feeling of strength and confidence surge through me like an electrical current.

"Welcome."

The voice was clear and resounding like a bronze bell, young and old at the same time.

Unable to utter a sound, I just stood there staring at the woman.

"Welcome, Flower of the Court," the voice sounded again.

I didn't realise at once that she was saying my name. Still speechless, I let her take my hand and lead me towards a large mossy boulder where she motioned for me to sit.

At last I found my speech.

"Where – no, who are you?"

"Can you not guess?"

With these words, the veil suddenly vanished. I gasped. Although the hood shielded the face from the moonlight, it shone clearly, as if with a light of its own, long silvery hair, full lips and large bright eyes – it was my mother's face!

"_Maman_?"

The faintest trace of a smile was curling around her lips, and she was completely unlike my mother in an instant.

"Yes and no, child. I am one of the roots of the tree of which you are the greenest leaf. I am-" "Morgaine of Avalon!"

Again that ghost of a smile appeared, making her look like a young girl.

"I have many names, and this is one of them, it is true. And, at last, you have found your way here."

After waiting for her to continue, I inquired:

"Why am I here?"

"You heard me speak through your foolish friend?"

I should have known, but I was taken aback nevertheless.

"Yes… And I still have no idea what it is all about. Can't you tell me?"

She sighed, and suddenly she looked hundreds of years old.

"Alas, child, it's in the nature of a prophecy that those that are involved must find out for themselves. But you have already revealed a part of it, have you not?"

"I am the Scorpion, but…"

Again she smiled and was no older than seventeen.

"And the same reasoning may well take you to an understanding of the whole… But the Dark One is rising, he is getting stronger daily."

"Who IS the Dark One? Can't you at least tell me that?"

"But do you not know already?"

Her eyes looked into mine intently, and suddenly I realised it.

"Not – not –_Vous-savez-qui_?"

Her face was ancient again.

"Indeed."

"But – how – what-?"

"Nobody knows. The prophecy indicates you may be essential in the oncoming fight. It is my task to strengthen you in the struggle, although I do not know what you will be called upon to do. I see you have the _Hesperion_ with you that I sent you. This is good."

"You sent it to me? Oh, yes, I suppose it all works out. And it's supposed to protect me in that struggle you're talking about?"

"It is. And you must learn to use its full powers. As you know already, it can block spells, - not all spells unfortunately, or not completely. It also makes it possible for you to transform into your animal-"

"MY animal?"

"Yes. Like an animagus. But I cannot tell you what your animal is. You will have to find out yourself. It is the wand that chooses the witch, and it is the same with your animal form."

"But how will I know?"

"Dreams may help… It is your responsibility to find it. But this is not all the stone can do."

"Madame Maxime says you can use it to read thoughts."

"You cannot USE the _Hesperion_," she said in a slightly shocked tone. "But it is true, it helps you with Legilimency."

"How do I do it?"

"It is basically a matter of concentration, and the stone enables you to filter out the right wavelength. It is easier when the person in question is within sight, but with practice you can enhance your abilities. The important thing is that you must at least have a picture of the person in your mind. The clearer the picture, the clearer you will be able to understand their thoughts. You have already been taught to focus your concentration on places-"

"Was it your doing that Maxime taught me the _virtualis _spell?"

She smiled.

"Let me say she had a little prompting…"

"So she knows about all this?"

"No. And it is absolutely imperative that you do not tell anybody. There can be spies and other followers of the Dark One everywhere…"

"But not Maxime, certainly!"

"Alas, we cannot be sure even of that. There are certain forms of the _Imperius_ curse that can turn the most righteous person into a submissive tool for the Dark One."

Not Harry! The thought flashed through my mind out of nowhere, but I didn't say anything.

She glanced at me in a strange way, but went on regardless.

"There is one more quality of the stone, but it can only develop this together with its counterpart, the _Phosphorion, _which, unfortunately, has been lost for more than a thousand years. If your soulmate is carrying it, …

"Soulmate?"

"Yes, your other half, the one that makes you complete. Only very lucky people ever succeed in finding their soulmate. Most never do…"

Again I was at a loss for words. Could she really mean what I thought she meant?

"How can I find my – soulmate?"

That smile flitted across her face again.

"It may come as a sudden revelation, or it may develop slowly. You may take it for simple infatuation for some time, or you may even try to fight it. But when the time has come, you just know."

"And – the other person?"

"Sometimes the revelation is synchronised, and both realise it at the same time. More often, however, one is slower on the uptake. And in some very tragic cases, the other person never realises it, - like Arthur…"

Her eyes darkened and her voice had lost some of its clearness.

"No matter," she said after a short pause. "You have to go back now, the door is only open for an hour."

There was no white light this time, my view just kind of fogged over and darkened at the same time, and my eyes closed slowly.

When I opened them again, I was lying in my bed, and it was bright morning.

Now that I have finished writing all this down, I am even less sure that all this really happened. There is not the slightest material clue to it. I put on a cloak for my ride on the broom, but when I woke up in my bed, the cloak was nowhere to be seen, and I found it later, neatly folded, in its usual place in the trunk, not moist from the night air or dirty from the grass I had walked though. But then, even IF it was just a dream, there is often quite a lot to dreams, and the things I remember being told all make perfect sense…

So perhaps it doesn't really make so much of a difference, after all. If I could only make up my mind whether I should tell anybody about it.

And the wole soulmate thing fascinates me, too. Was it a coincidence that Morgaine mentioned it the very moment my thoughts were on Harry? Dare I believe that he couls possibly be my soulmate? What if he never realises it?


	27. Chapter 27 Stumbling

A/N: Greetings, gentle readers. I know it's unforgivable to keep you all waiting for so long, but there was a nasty bit of writer's block to be overcome, sorry for the delay. Thank you all for your beautiful reviews, I really thrive on them. As you will see, this chapter gives a couple more explanations, though it leaves still a lot open. Also, the relationship of Harry and Fleur develops a bit further, though not really very much. Be patient, I really don't want to rush this; it wouldn't be plausible if I did. There is nothing worse than these fics where two characters just fall into each other's arms with no obvious reason, and I'm going to avoid this as far as I can.

Enjoy and review!

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**Chapter 27 Stumbling**

May 3rd, 1995

After careful deliberation I have finally decided to talk to Hermione. I won't tell her the exact details, she might find them too ridiculous to give the matter any serious consideration. So I'll tell her it was a dream, which, to be honest, I'm still not sure if it wasn't, after all. I'm quite certain though, that I can trust her.

I cornered her after dinner and told her about my "dream".

"No wonder you dreamed about that," she said in a very aloof tone. "After all the rubbish that girl told you. So it was Morgaine, was it? What did she say?"

I told her about the supposed qualities of the _Hesperion_. She was not exactly convinced.

"Well, I suppose there is a simple psychological explanation. Shape shifting and thought reading are among the oldest human dreams, so it's not surprising your subconscious links them with that mysterious stone. Add Luna's idea of the "Door to Avalon", and you have the whole thing, no magic involved at all. Morgaine didn't by any chance tell you how to use the stone to do all those things, did she?"

I didn't quite like the sarcasm in her voice, but had to admit that she was perfectly right.

"See?" she said, sounding very satisfied with herself.

I couldn't help feeling disappointed. Clever witch though she may be, she is so rational that she can be very narrow minded when it comes to ideas outside her field of intellect.

"Have you ever heard of a stone or jewel called _Phosphorion_?" I asked her after a short pause.

"Not that I remember. Why?"

So I told her about this, too, but didn't mention the part about the soul mates.

"What's it again? _Phosphorion_? It does sound familiar… What's the other one?

_Hesperion_? Hmm…"

"Phosphorus, the bringer of light, is the morning star, you know," Luna's voice suddenly interrupted her. Without us noticing she must have been listening to our conversation. She really seems to develop quite a habit of this. Speechless, we turned to her but, seemingly unaware of our surprise, she continued.

"And Hesperus is the evening star," she said smugly. "And you know what the beauty of it all is? They are both the same planet – Venus."

It may have been my imagination, but I had the distinct impression she winked at me before she stalked away.

Hermione's face fell.

"That's true," she said grudgingly. "I can't imagine how I could not think of it… But it doesn't make much of a difference, does it?" she added, almost hopefully.

"I suppose so."

I don't think I sounded either convinced or convincing, but I just didn't feel up to discussing it any more.

Of course I hardly dare to admit it to myself, and perhaps all this stuff about soul mates has given me stupid ideas, but in a way this new information – Venus, of all the planets! – makes me nervous.

May 8th, 1995

The Hogwarts students are not allowed to go to Hogsmeade this weekend, but Iphigenie and Margaux are going. They asked me to come with them, but somehow I had the feeling they just wanted to be polite and really would prefer me not to come. They have been with each other a good deal these last couple of weeks (ever since their failed Morgaine hoax, in fact), to an extent that I begin to feel excluded. I have a suspicion that they have found some agreeable Hogwarts boys to date, after their various abortive experiments, but they are not telling me anything. To be honest, it annoys me a bit; I mean they should know me well enough by now… Anyway, I told them I'd stay in the carriage, and there was no way not to notice their relief when I said it.

Well, perhaps it's all for the best. I really ought to try and see if there is anything in these supposed qualities of the stone. (Strange, I still hesitate to call it _Hesperion._)

Evening.

Of course it was not to be expected that I'd manage the shape shifting itself in such a short time, but I think I'm a bit nearer already. I believe I have at least an idea what "my" animal is!

When I was finally alone in the dormitory, I thought of ways to help me concentrate. Eventually, I conjured a hook from which I hung the stone on its chain. Then I put a spell on it to make it swing to and fro gently and regularly. The monotonous movement did the trick, and I soon felt everything recede, and my mind started to float. It's not a good word at all, but I can't think of a better one, so "float" will have to do.

The problem with a trance is, unfortunately, that you don't remember anything when you wake up from it, so I have no idea what went on in my mind during that time. I really might have thought of it. On the other hand, if I had, I'd probably not have started the whole thing, and wouldn't have got this idea suggesting itself to me.

Because the other problem with a trance is that you need an external impulse to get out of it again, and like a stupid beginner I forgot to formulate such a condition before I started. So theoretically I ought to be still there, my mind wandering aimlessly through Merlin knows what regions.

The simple fact that I am writing this proves that without having arranged for doing so I must have got out of my trance. The impulse that did it for me was the hoot of an owl. When I opened my eyes, I saw a large snowy white owl on the windowsill, looking at me with huge yellow eyes.

It took me a minute or two to return to the here and now, and while I was staring stupidly at the bird it kept looking back at me unmoving. But when I had finally come to my senses and made a movement towards the window, it rose noiselessly and vanished right into the sunlight.

It seems stupid now that I did not realise it right away, but the owl looked exactly like Harry's. However, I don't think it can have been. What business would it have had at my window? And it did not have any letter for me either. But it's a strange coincidence, certainly.

Anyway, the owl seems to have been the external impulse that woke me from my trance, although I did not define it as such. But I'm sure to have subconsciously wished to wake up when I found the answer to my question. So there is a good chance that it really was that answer.

Now I'll "only" have to figure out how to turn into an owl… Easy, isn't it?

May 12th, 1995

After wondering for three days how to make use of my new information (if information it is), I finally got hold of Iphigenie and told her about the episode with the owl. Unlike Hermione, who would probably have said that I had been daydreaming again, she took it quite seriously.

"Great!" she said enthusiastically. "That's definitely something to begin with."

"I thought so much," I replied dryly. "Question is, where and how to begin with it."

"When we were learning about animagi," she said (of course, being seventh year, there are things she's learned that I haven't) "the most important thing seemed to be proper imaging in your mind. We never learned how to do it, mind you, according to the book you are born as an animagus, and just have to realise and then refine your abilities. Actually, the book was not quite clear about it, apparently there are only theories, but no proven facts. – Awful lot of good it was learning all that, when basically the only thing that is really KNOWN is that you don't know anything. Anyway, I suggest you put that necklace on, find a place where nobody is likely to disturb you, and picture that owl as exactly as you can. And then see what happens."

"I have a better idea. Remember that shop in the village where they sell all kind of toys and junk? I bet they'll have a toy owl, too. It might help me with the visualising bit, don't you think?"

"It might," she agreed. "And you've been living without this ability for seventeen years now, so a couple of days more won't make any difference."

May 14th, 1995

I went into Hogsmeade this afternoon. As it is again no Hogsmeade weekend for the Hogwarts students, the place was more or less deserted, and there were hardly any people in the shop. I soon found a small model of a white owl, about ten centimetres high that can flap its wings and hoot. The shopkeeper seemed to be wondering what I wanted it for, but I ignored her questioning looks and left.

On my way back to the carriage I came across the large shaggy dog that I had seen together with Harry a couple of weeks ago. He seemed to remember me too, as he came over to me wagging his tail.

"Hey Snuffles, old boy," I said to him, bending down to pat him. "You look better than last time, you know. Has Harry been looking after you?"

The dog rose on his hind legs and tried to lick my face, which I could avoid only very narrowly.

"Stop it!" I shouted. "Scruffy smelly old dog, get off!"

He looked at me and again I had the impression he understood every word. Then he turned round and trotted off towards the hills.

Evening

I have been sitting on my bed for hours, I believe, staring like an absolute idiot at the stupid owl model flying around the room, and my arms and legs have grown quite numb, but I still don't look any more like an owl than Margaux or Iphigenie.

May 15th, 1995

I had a strange dream tonight, - this time I am quite sure it WAS a dream, - which, as Hermione would be sure to explain, was due to my spending most of the afternoon watching the owl model.

I dreamed that I was that owl, and that I was flying over to the castle. And I came across another white owl that looked exactly like the one that had woken me from my trance. I followed it towards one of the towers, but when I came nearer, I suddenly woke up to find myself in my bed, with Margaux and Iphigenie sleeping peacefully in theirs. I couldn't help the impulse to look over to the window, but of course there was nothing there.

Feeling lonely and unwanted I decided to visit Gabie in the afternoon. I found her as usual in her room sprawled on the floor, with a book propped up in front of her. As always she was genuinely happy to see me, and only now I realised how much I had missed her all these weeks. Of course I told her about my crazy experience with Morgaine and the "Door to Avalon".

"But Hermione thinks it's just a dream." I finished.

"Tell her she's blind!" was my sister's heartfelt statement. "I mean, what's the difference? Even if it was an experience you went through while lying in your bed, this doesn't make it any less true, does it?"

Once again, I was surprised at her wisdom.

"The fact remains," she went on, "that you DID make that experience, and there simply must be more to it than wishful thinking. You had never heard of that second jewel – what's it called? ("Phosphorion", I interjected.) before, ever, right? So how could you have known the name? Give this to Hermione to think about!" She grinned at me widely.

When I told her about my experiments with the owl model, she laughed.

"I can just picture you," she giggled, "sitting there until you got all cramped up, waiting for something to happen…"

She went on telling me about her lessons in the _Ecole preparatoire_, where they are learning to do simple levitation spells, and I had a hearty laugh at her story how she accidentally hit her teacher over the head with one of her own books.

May 20th, 1995

I have been carrying on with "operation owl" most of this week, inside and outside the carriage, but apart from some very vivid dreams in which I have been flying round most of the Hogwarts grounds, nothing remarkable has happened. In addition, there is as much homework as ever. Sometimes I almost think I should forget about all these weird things, from _Hesperion _to Morgaine and back, and bury myself in school work. Things would be a lot easier that way.

May 21st, 1995

Saturday again, and another Hogsmeade weekend for the students. Actually, I have never understood why their headmaster is so strict with these weekends and keeps making such a big deal out of them. As it is, everybody is going there at the same time, and it's next to impossible to find seats in the _brasserie_ or cafes. Why can't they just go every weekend they like? The place would be far less crowded then, and things would be a lot easier for everybody. And even the shops would do more business, I'm sure.

Margaux and Iphigenie have disappeared on one of their mysterious dates (or whatever it is they are up to, they aren't telling me) again, and I don't feel like going into the village all on my own; I think I'll go down for a stroll at the lake, it's a nice day, at least.

Margaux and Iphigenie have a distinct guilty look about them. I guess they sense that I feel somewhat neglected, because they have been trying to talk to me about all kind of unimportant things ever since they returned. Margaux actually asked me to play chess, which I know she is really not too keen on.

However, I have refused their offer, and have retreated to my favourite chair next to the fireplace with my diary. Perhaps writing down and reliving the events of the afternoon will help me clear my head and come to terms with myself and everything else.

I ambled slowly down towards the lakeshore, enjoying the mild afternoon sun on my face and the soft breeze in my hair. Amid some bushes, I found a large stone. Although it was covered in soft green moss, it was clear that it had been artificially shaped into the form of a bench, and as the sun was fully on it so it was pleasantly warm, I sat down. There was a beautiful view of the lake, which glittered in tiny ripples in the sunshine. At the far side, the silhouette of the castle loomed into the deep blue sky. Birds were singing around me, and the grass was full of pretty flowers. Not even the sinister form of the black Durmstrang ship could destroy the serene beauty of the scenery. There were no people to be seen anywhere, obviously everybody had gone to the village. I felt a peaceful calm enter my mind, as I leaned back gazing across the lake dreamily, letting my mind wander...

I must have dozed off for a bit, because the next thing I know is a shadow falling upon my face.

"Do you mind if I sit down?"

I jumped, and it took me a second or two to recognise the speaker against the bright sunlight.

"Oh, Harry." Just the person who had been on my mind a minute ago. I'm not sure, but I think I blushed. Feeling strangely tongue-tied, I moved to the side, and he sat down next to me.

"What- I thought you had gone to the village with Ron and Hermione?"

"Didn't feel like it," came the short answer in a voice that was almost gruff. Clearly something was bothering him.

I must have betrayed my surprise at his tone, because he apologised at once.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to say it like this. It's just, well, I felt..." his voice trailed off.

I had a sudden inspiration.

"You felt they'd rather be alone together, is that it? Fifth wheel on the cart, right?"

"What?" He couldn't help the grin that spread over his face, a wry grin, to be sure, but a grin nevertheless. "Oh, I see. Like three's a crowd. Yes, I guess you are right. Oh, they are very sweet about it, insist on me coming with them, and everything, but then I look at their faces, and it's plain they just want to be nice to me... So I told them I didn't feel like going today, and I must say they didn't try too hard to persuade me... Yes, I do feel a bit left out, I can't deny it. But how did you know?"

I turned to look straight at him, and put my hand on his arm.

"Because it's the same with me. Yes, I can imagine how you feel; Margaux and Iphigenie, they have been behaving exactly the same way recently."

"But they aren't a couple, are they?" His tone was already lighter, and his grin had changed into a more relaxed smile.

I had to giggle at the idea and boxed his shoulder playfully.

"Of course not! They are meeting some guys, I believe, though I must say they have never told me anything definite. Perhaps it's still some deep subconscious distrust of the wicked Veela..."

"No need to sound so bitter, I'm sure they don't mean it..."

This is one of the things I like about Harry - he senses someone else's troubles and immediately forgets his own and tries to reassure them.

"I know they don't - consciously. But it's hard to know that I'll never quite live down all the prejudice."

"Oh yes, how very right you are..."

There was a short pause. Then, without thinking what I was saying, I blurted out:

"Do you like her?"

I was surprised at myself, and I must have blushed furiously, but there was no taking it back. He looked at me wide-eyed, obviously equally surprised.

"What - I mean, who?"

"Hermione. If you like her - " and as I could see he didn't understand what I meant, I went on: "I mean, of course you like her, she's your best friend and all, but do like her ... as a girl?" I couldn't bring myself to say _do you love her_.

Any other boy would probably have denied it straight away, but not so Harry.

"Do you know, I've never really thought about it," he said slowly, frowning in puzzlement. "I guess I've always taken her for granted... She's always there, see, and ... well, I terribly miss her when she's not... that time she was petrified was horrible... And I'd do everything for her, too... But if you mean have I ever thought of kissing her, or something - no, I don't believe I have. I never dream of her, too, though I wouldn't mind to, for a change, my dreams tend to be pretty awful most of the time..."

He smiled ruefully.

"Awful dreams? Not with me in them, I hope?" I inquired, trying to introduce a lighter side to this obviously painful topic.

"Of course not. I can't imagine a nightmare with you in it," he smiled at me, but it was not an altogether relaxed smile. "I'm having these dreams, you know-" he checked himself. "But I'm sure you don't want to know. It's not a pretty topic to talk about."

"I know I'm not Hermione Granger," I said and I'm sure my voice showed I felt hurt. "But I thought we were at least some kind of friends by now, and I do wish you'd tell me."

"I'm sorry," he said at once. "I just thought it wasn't quite something for a piece of light conversation..." He saw my expression and went on hastily, "I mean not the kind of thing you'd talk about to... oh, damn, I'm making this worse... well, I guess I just didn't want to bother you with my problems..."

"So it's going to be the Lonesome Hero stuff, is it?" I said acidly, enjoying how he froze at my words. "Think I'm not good enough to share Harry Potter's problems? Dumb Blondie can't be bothered with them?"

I don't know why I was so upset all of a sudden, now that I think of it, it was perhaps some subconscious jealousy that he would not tell me things I was sure he was telling Hermione all the time. But I'm perfectly aware that my reaction was completely unreasonable, at any rate.

Feeling tears stinging in my eyes, I jumped up from my seat. That is, I wanted to, but my foot slipped, a sharp pain shot through my ankle, I stumbled, - and found myself suddenly caught in Harry's arms, his incredible green eyes only a few centimetres from mine.

I lost all sense of time, but of course we can't have been standing like that more than a couple of seconds; then something inside me snapped, I threw my arms round his neck, let my head drop onto his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry!" I stammered between sobs. "I don't know why I said those mean things, oh, how you must hate me for that! But - you don't trust me - it hurts so much..."

After a moment of shock, he started patting my back awkwardly, making soothing noises. I felt his warmth through my robes, and his touch finally made me relax. It really felt nice...

"I'm sorry," I said after some time, raising my head at last and looking into his eyes again, so disconcertingly close. "What you must think of me... I'm not normally so hysterical, you know."

"Oh, I have noticed that," he replied, and I was so happy to see the smile back in his face again. "I guess everybody can lose it once in a while..."

When I took a step back, the sharp pain shot through my ankle again, and I had to clutch at his arms to steady myself.

"Hold it!" he said, supporting my by both elbows. "Have you hurt your foot, or something?"

"It seems so."

"Hmm, what shall I do with you? _Mobilicorpus?_ No, that's probably too undignified..." He grinned again. "Well, the good old Muggle way will be good enough..."

So I put my arm round his shoulder while he had his arm round my waist, and leaning on to him I hobbled as well as I could back to our carriage.

Of course Maxime had no problem putting my ankle right in no time, and soon Harry and I were sitting in our common room with two cups of coffee - French coffee, naturally, which he found much better than the normal Hogwarts stuff.

"So, if you want to know about those dreams of mine..." he began tentatively.

"Only if you want to tell me. And I promise not to get all hysterical again."

"I wouldn't mind if you did... Anyway, it's more or less one dream only, with variations, of course. It's always how Voldemort killed my parents-"

I drew in my breath in shock.

"Usually it's my mother, see. I can hear her screaming, 'Not Harry! Take me instead!', she says... And there is that flash of green light, and the horrible laughter... sometimes there are red eyes, too, or a snake..."

He slumped in his chair, hiding his face in his hands.

I got off my chair, and knelt down beside him.

"Oh Harry," I whispered, putting one arm round his shoulder and stroking his head with my other hand. "I had no idea... it must hurt so terribly... and I made you talk about it... I feel so awful..."

He raised his head and smiled weakly.

"Don't," he said quietly. "Actually, it's good to talk about it... Makes it easier to bear, somehow..."

He stood up slowly.

"Well, I'd better get going. They'll be waiting for me at the castle already. See you at dinner."

I stepped up to him. "Thank you," I said quietly, standing on tiptoe to kiss his forehead. "Thank you for trusting me."

I feel strangely exhilarating after the events of the afternoon, I don't quite know why, but I have a feeling that my relation with Harry has changed. I do hope it has changed in the direction I want it to. I have not told Margaux and Iphigenie about it; I want to have my own little secrets, just like them.

Harry was surrounded by a lot of his mates during and after dinner, and I didn't feel like going up to him among all those people. Somehow I felt it would spoil those moments we had shared today.

Cedric and Cho appeared only for a very short time for the actual dinner, and then vanished again. I keep trying to suppress my envy at seeing them so happy together, completely wrapped up in each other, hardly noticing anything around them.

I lingered at the Ravenclaw table for a short time after dinner, looking at nothing and nobody in particular, when suddenly Luna Lovegood plopped down on the seat next to me.

"So your animal is the owl," she said without any preliminaries, in that typical way of hers.

"What?" I was completely taken by surprise.

"The animal you can turn into," Luna repeated. "You know, with the Hesperion..."

"How do you...?"

"Oh, I saw you with that toy owl the other day," she said in her serene voice. "By the lake, you know."

"Yes, at least I_ think_ it is an owl. I'm not even sure..."

"When's your birthday?" I should be used to her abrupt ways by now, but I was surprised nevertheless.

"What?"

"Your birthday, you know the day when..." She grinned at me mischievously.

"I mean, what's my birthday got to do with it?" I was getting slightly impatient.

"Wait a moment. So when is it?"

"31st October."

"Is it really? How interesting. So your animal according to the Celtic zodiac is the OWL! Makes perfect sense, doesn't it?" She looked at me triumphantly.

I had to admit it did.

"You never cease to amaze me," I told her, at which she smiled proudly.

"Yes, my dad knows all about these things, and he's been telling me since I was little. If I were you, I'd get a book on those Celtic zodiac animals, who knows what else you may find..."

And with these words she got up and left the hall. I really must read up on this Celtic stuff some time, it may be more significant for me than I believe.


	28. Chapter 28 Countdown

A/N: Hello everybody! Just my luck, isn't it? Now I've finally finished this chapter, and now ffnet breaks down so I can't update! Thanks for being so patient with little ole me. I had been a bit stuck about ideas how to fill in the long time between the second and third task, and I do hope all of you will be satisfied with what I have come up with. SilverMoonset – How do you get the idea I don't like Ron? I may not take him quite seriously, true, but I like him all right. Sorry for those typing errors, I run the spell check over the whole thing, normally, so there shouldn't be too many, but the computer is a weird machine, sometimes. And concerning Iphigenie and Margaux – just wait and see. 

DJ Rodriguez – happy to oblige, there's more in this chapter

Bexis - The things I use about the Celtic Calendar and animal signs can be found on various websites. There are animal AND tree signs, and animals are so much more – lively, aren't they?

LT 2000 – Yes, "tall leggy blonde" is how people usually picture Fleur; but I imagine Harry about the same height by now (teenage growth spurt, see?), more or less, and so to kiss his forehead, she'll have to stand on tiptoe.

General question to all of you, gentle readers: I'm beginning to feel sorry for Cho, so what do you people say about an amnesty for Cedric?? Give me your ideas REAL FAST, so I can work them into the next chapter, where they will be needed!

Well, R, (hopefully enjoy) and R again! (And I'm full of the best intentions about updating soon!)

Chapter 28 Countdown 

May 23rd, 1995

I've taken out a book about the Celtic calendar from the library. I know, of course, that I'm short of time anyway, with all the homework and stuff, but Luna has made me curious. Naturally, the first things I looked up were Harry's and my birth signs, and I'm quite fascinated by what I found.

According to this book, Harry's animal is the cat; cat people are "loyal and trustworthy, affectionate and creative". Now I'm sure he is all these things, no question about that. And I can't help being shocked by the brutal irony that cat people have a "deep devotion to family," knowing how desperately he misses exactly this. But the book also comes up with "sensual", and I admit it gave my insides a strange feeling...

Luna has been quite correct about my birth sign. It IS the owl. I'm not altogether sure I like all the things it says about owl-people. I mean, it's nice enough when it says things like "wise", or "highly imaginative and passionate" (and it gives me a shudder to think of it together with "sensual"). But when it goes on to "can both attract and overpower sensitive people", I don't feel this is a very nice thing, really.

But what leaves me both excited and scared is that the owl is supposed to have "harmonious relations with the signs of the cat and bear". Now I don't know any bear people, but I certainly know one special cat guy...

May 24th, 1995

Exactly one month to go until the Third Task. Still no idea what it is going to be. We've been doing fire and water already, and as in a way dragons are also connected with air, the logical thing would be something to do with earth. Great! Just what I like best - underground tunnels and caves again... But perhaps I'm just being paranoid.

May 27th, 1997

So it's not underground tunnels, that's something, I guess. This evening, Maxime told me to go down to the Quidditch pitch after dinner.

"They'll explain what the final task is about," she said.

So after dinner, I went down to the place. Although the light was fading rapidly, I could still see that there was something different. A labyrinth of low hedges had appeared where the pitch used to be.

Bagman, the ministry official, was already there, together with Viktor Krum, and the contrast between the two, Bagman in his exaggerated, ludicrously exuberant good mood, and Krum's scowling airs could not have been greater.

"Bon soir, mademoiselle," Bagman said, beaming, in what he thought was excellent French, while Krum, apart from an indistinct grunt, gave no sign he had even noticed my arrival.

"Hello there!" Bagman suddenly called cheerily, and turning, I saw Harry and Cedric approaching in the gathering gloom, clambering over the hedges towards us.

"Well, what d'you think?" Bagman's voice was dripping with enthusiasm. "Growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid'll have them twenty-foot-high."

Harry's and Cedric's faces were a good deal less enthusiastic; apparently they were worried about their quidditch pitch. So he went on, grinning:

"Don't worry, you'll have your quidditch pitch back to normal once the task is over! Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?"

The question was so childishly stupid that nobody bothered to answer. Finally, Krum spat out,

"Maze."

"That's right!" Bagman was not to be daunted by the general lack of enthusiasm. "The third task's really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the centre of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks."

What a counterpoint after dragons, wailing eggs and merpeople! As if somebody's imagination had run out, and they hadn't been able to think of something original any more. A maze, indeed! One of the oldest and most boring ideas!

"We simply have to get through the maze?" I asked disbelievingly.

I shouldn't have asked. It just set him going again. Bouncing up and down, almost like a rubber ball, he went on.

"There will be obstacles. Hagrid is providing a number of creatures... then there will be spells that must be broken... all that sort of thing, you know. Now the champions who are leading on points will get a head start into the maze." He indicated Harry and Cedric. "Then Mr. Krum will enter... then Miss Delacour. But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending on how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?"

He looked around at us expectantly, but apparently nobody wanted to do him the favour to ask anything.

"Very well," he said at last, sounding disappointed, "if you haven't got any questions, we'll go back to the castle, shall we, it's a bit chilly..."

He scuttled over towards Harry, but just before he could reach him. Krum tapped Harry on the shoulder, saying something to him I could not catch. Harry, looking surprised, nodded, and after he had said something to Bagman, who looked slightly put out, he and Krum went off.

"So it's creatures of Hagrid's?" Cedric said to me after Bagman had ambled away towards the castle.

"Probably from the forest?" I suggested, only half joking.

"Very likely. And I don't think it will be unicorns, either. Well, see you tomorrow, then."

And he started off to the castle at quite a quick stride. He seems to be anxious not to stay away from Cho any longer than is absolutely necessary.

May 28th, 1995

This weekend, Margaux and Iphigenie have decided not to make themselves scarce. After I had told them about the last task, they agreed that we should take up a practising programme together.

"Of course, there could be just about anything in that labyrinth," Iphigenie said. "Curses to break, you said?"

"Spells," I corrected, a bit weakly.

"That's a relief," she replied in a sarcastic tone. "So I believe we can rule out an automatic Avada kedavra..."

"And creatures," I told her. "Don't forget the creatures."

"A blessing the place is too small for dragons," Margaux put in. "But then, you know, even this isn't necessarily true..."

"Thanks, I needed that."

"Pity you didn't ask more questions, bet he'd have given you some hints, he's just the conceited idiot that would, just to show off. But it can't do any harm to go through the most common counterspells. I'll draw up a timetable for you..."

This is what Margaux is really good at, and in no time she had organised my free time for the next four weeks, leaving me a couple of hours for eating and sleeping, mercifully.

"Anyway, you'll be wearing that necklace, won't you," Iphigenie said. "So there shouldn't be too many problems, anyway."

She saw the expression in my face.

"Don't start telling us you aren't going to use it! You can carry the idea of fairness too far!"

But I'm really not sure about this. The last thing I want is an unfair advantage over Harry.

At dinner, Harry and the others seemed to be quite nervous and distracted. Even Ron wasn't giving his food his usual attention. It could have something to do with what Viktor Krum told Harry yesterday. But I'm not going to ask.

May 31st, 1995

We have been practising spells, hexes and counterjinxes almost every free minute the last two days, and it is really quite exhausting. It is especially tiring because there is no idea what to look out for, it's just a random accumulation. I'm making a point of not wearing the amulet during practise; there wouldn't be any use in practising countering spells that don't get through to me, anyway, or at least that's what I keep telling Iphigenie, and she hasn't brought up the subject again.

June 1st, 1995

After dinner, Hermione came up to me, looking worried.

"I'm not sure if Harry would like me to do this, but I simply have to tell you," she said breathlessly.

"What is it?"

"He collapsed yesterday in Divination. Had a dream or something, and woke up screaming with pain in his scar..."

"His scar? That means..."

"That means it's something to do with You-Know-Who, yes. Saw him in his dream, together with Wormtail..."

"Wormtail? Funny name."

"An animagus, who can turn into a rat," she said, loathing in her voice. "He betrayed Harry's parents to You-Know-Who."

"Oh."

"Yes, and in this dream, there was a snake Harry was going to be fed to... "

"A snake? But that's-"

"You-Know-Who's pet, yes. Of course, he pretends to be all right, but I've known him for years now, and I'm sure it bothers him no end… You know I don't care so much for dreams, normally, and I wouldn't about this one, too, if it wasn't for the pain in his scar."

"It does seem to prove it was more than just a dream, you are right. Do you think there's anything I can do?"

She looked at me thoughtfully.

"You might go flying with him, don't you think? Take his mind off things. It's about the only thing that can really make him forget… I'd do it myself, but, see, flying just isn't my thing…"

So I said I would meet Harry at the (former) quidditch pitch tomorrow after lessons. I hope I'll be able to get some time off my practising with Margaux and Iphigenie.

June 2nd, 1995

Grudgingly, Margaux gave me the afternoon off.

"Fraternising with the enemy, that's what it is," she grumbled, and I had the impression she was not entirely joking. "At least sound him out on his strategies…"

I didn't bother to answer and went over to the pitch, or the labyrinth, as I ought to say now. The hedges have grown a good deal in the few days, and are already almost two metres high. Harry was already waiting for me, and I was shocked to see how pale he was. There were dark rings round his eyes, as if he hadn't slept properly for days. But his smile was the same.

"Hermione insisted I go flying again," he said to me. "She says it will be good for me. She's always worrying about me, you know, for no reason whatsoever. Thought I'd go, just to please her."

I didn't tell him that the way he looked showed only too clearly that Hermione's worrying was very much justified.

"And here I was thinking you enjoyed seeing me," I said, and the hurt tone of my voice was only too real. (I hope I didn't pout childishly, but I'm not really sure.)

He looked embarrassed and blushed immediately, in that typical way that I love so much about him.

"But of course I like you, - I mean I like seeing you…" he stammered.

"I'm glad to hear it," I said, grinning at him. I was not going to ask him about that dream, if he felt like talking about it, he would in his own time.

We kicked off, and flew around the labyrinth for some time, finally going into hovering mode side by side above the centre.

"Looks quite harmless, doesn't it?" Harry said to me. "Easy to remember."

"Don't be so sure," I replied. "There are plenty of magical ways to change it, before you enter, or even while you are in it. It doesn't even have to be the same shape for each of us. It would be much too easy otherwise. Anybody could get the idea to fly over it and draw a map or something."

"I guess you are right. Seems a bit too simple, anyway, after all those dragons and things."

"Exactly."

Suddenly, he did a few mad loopings.

"Look here," he panted when he reappeared by my side. "I don't want to… I mean it's nothing really serious, but… The other day, we were talking about those dreams I keep having, remember? Well, I don't know if you want to hear about this…"

"Oh Harry, don't you still know you can tell me everything? What is it?"

"Well, a couple of days ago, in Divination… But let's sit down somewhere, shall we?"

So we flew over to the stone bench by the lake and sat down on the soft mossy seat.

"So, what is it you want to tell me?"

"Oh, it… well, it was a dream I had the other day, see… It was in that old fraud Trelawney's class, y'know, it's always so stuffy and she gets her room full of those weird scents, and she was showing us something about – what was it? – Mars, I believe – well, anyway – "

He broke off. I just looked at him in what I hoped was a detached interested way, and did not say anything.

"I – I had this dream, see? I was riding on the back of that huge owl – silly, isn't it, how can an owl be that big? – and then, suddenly I was in that dark room – "

Again he stopped, looking at me in a strange way, and again I didn't press him to continue. This was clearly important to him, and I was sure that any comment from me would put him off.

"And there was that chair with its back to me, so I couldn't see what was in it, but on the floor, there was that huge snake, and – and – oh, I'd recognize him everywhere! – "

"Who?" I ventured to ask.

"Wormtail!" The word sounded like a curse. "Wormtail, the rat!"

I didn't think it a good idea to let him know that Hermione had already told me about Wormtail, so I just looked at him expectantly.

"He betrayed my parents!" He almost shouted it. "Betrayed them to Voldemort! He as good as killed them himself! Oh, if I had only – "

I put my hand on his harm in a soothing gesture, but felt strangely scared to say anything.

"And he, - Voldemort, I didn't see him, but I knew it must be him, in that chair, he tortured him… it was horrible… I mean, he deserves it, but still… no, I can't imagine anyone deserves this kind of thing… oh, I don't know… and then… he said to his snake – I don't remember exactly, but something about me… as if the snake was to eat me or something… and then the pain in my head got so terrible I must have broken down, screaming, because the next thing I know is that I'm lying on the floor everybody standing around me, horrified…"

All this had come out in short gasps, and I could feel him tremble by my side. Hearing him tell his story himself shocked me a lot more than Hermione's vague narrative had, especially as I saw how intensely affected he still was by everything.

"A very stupid dream, really," he said after a pause, with a forced weak smile. "I'm sure there is nothing in it at all…"

But from the tone of his voice it was clear that he didn't believe it himself. I took his hands in mine and pressed them silently.

"Thanks for listening to my rant," he said after another pause, and this time his smile was more relaxed. "These dreams really scare me, they are so real, you see, and still I have no idea what they mean."

"I don't know," I finally said. "They _could_ just be images of your own mind, of course, when for some reason or other certain thoughts come to the surface, but that wouldn't explain the pains in your scar, would it?"

"Probably not. This is what Hermione seems to believe too. But could I be seeing things that actually _happen_?"

"I have no idea. But the point is, rather, WHY are you having these dreams at all? Could it be that - _Vous-savez-qui _WANTS you to have them?"

He paled.

"You mean – but then – he would be able to enter my mind!"

I had not thought of this implication, and was shocked myself.

"Well, yes, I suppose it would mean something like that."

"But what would be the point? Why would he want me to see these things?"

"To frighten you, perhaps; would just be like him, don't you think? Makes you unable to think straight, so you can't defend yourself properly. And, moreover, I'm sure if there is anything he really enjoys, it's people being scared of him. So he may just be showing off, perhaps."

"I do believe you have a point here. But I won't let him scare me with stupid dreams! He'll have to do a lot better than that!"

He jumped up with these words, his eyes flashing.

"I feel a lot better! Thanks for listening!"

He grabbed his broom and dashed off into the air at a mad speed. I knew better than to follow him, and slowly returned to the carriage.

I really think there is more to those dreams of Harry's than he (or I) realises. If I only knew what it is!

June 5th, 1995

After disappearing again during most of Saturday, Margaux and Iphigenie have made a point of taking me into the village with them this afternoon.

"You need a break from all that practising," Margaux told me. And indeed, I have barely had a free moment these days, what with all the training my two friends are putting me through. It seems that they are taking me through most of the curriculum of the entire eighth year, just leaving out divination and potion brewing.

So we went into the Three Broomsticks for some butterbeer. There were only a few of the local village people there as it was no Hogsmeade weekend for the students, and so the place was not crowded at all. We sat down at on of the tables, and gazed around us lazily.

"Look," Iphigenie suddenly said, pointing at a table at the opposite side of the room. "Hair almost like yours."

Indeed, the man was an impressive sight. Although he was sitting, it was clear that he must be quite tall. His pale face was pointed, with a cruel mouth, a prominent nose and cold pale blue eyes. And his hair was of an almost white blond, really not so much different from mine, although it lacked the silvery lustre.

But what really surprised me was the man sitting there with him. It took me a second or two, but then the thin colourless hair and the rodent-like features fell in place, and I realised it was the same mysterious stranger that had been talking to my mother in the garden pavilion.

My friends saw my surprise.

"What is it?" Iphigenie inquired.

"Something's going on," I answered, whispering without intending to. "See that other guy? Yes, the ratty type. He was talking to my mother a couple of weeks ago…"

"And so what?"

"Well, you are not telling me it's a coincidence he turns up here now, are you?"

"Hm, but it just could be… This is not a book, you know, where every small incident carries a deeper meaning. What do you know about him, anyway?"

"Nothing," I had to admit.

"See?"

"But… but he did have such a furtive way about him, he was definitely up to no good…"

"People just can't help the way they look, you know. But we can watch out for him, if it makes you feel better."

I didn't like her patronising tone at all, but chose not to say anything more. At any rate, the two men got up from their table presently. On their way out, they passed us, and the smaller one gave me a glancing look. I froze. I was sure I had seen those eyes before; that look of a blend of fear and hatred, I had seen it before, I was sure. It lasted less than a second, then the two left the pub, and I felt myself relax.

No matter what my friends say, I am sure there is something that is very far from all right.

June 11th, 1995

Another week has passed, and I feel pretty exhausted, what with all the homework and the practising sessions with my friends. But at least I don't have any exams coming up, something the others are pretty full of at the moment. Especially as it's leaving exams for Iphigenie and Margaux, who has even had to relax on supervising my practising sessions.

"But I trust you'll be taking this seriously," she told me this afternoon, before retiring into our bedroom with a pile of books very unusual for her. "Even without me checking on you all the time."

I muttered something noncommittal and went out of the carriage into the warm afternoon sun to practise a few more spells and jinxes.

A loud spitting and screeching caught my attention. Next to the carriage, an orange streak was rushing through the high grass, apparently in hot pursuit of something a lot smaller. I recognised Crookshanks at once, there was no mistaking his bottlebrush tail. But I couldn't really see what he was after, some mouse or other small animal probably. In a flurry he was gone again, and I returned to my exercises.

Strange though, normally that cat is a rather inert lazy ball of fur, I have never seen him so agitated before. Whatever he was after must have excited him no end.

June 15th, 1995

Exams have started today, and I have nothing to do all day long. I thought shortly about sitting together with my friends taking theirs, but Maxime wouldn't allow it. She says it's no use to me, as the subject matter is a year above me, and I wouldn't understand much of it anyway, and so I'd better prepare myself for the Task.

Today was Potions for Margaux and Iphigenie, and they are in two minds about it.

"Horrible to have the most difficult subject first," Iphigenie complains, but Margaux says, "But we ought to be glad that it's over already, aren't you?"

It's quite useless to try to enter into their discussion, so I don't, although I tend to think Margaux has logic on her side a lot more. They both try not to speculate about their results, though, which I think is pretty clever of them.

Tomorrow is Transfiguration, probably the second most difficult subject, so they are both rather nervous and try to get as much revising into these last few hours as they can. I believe this last-minute cramming can do more harm than good, as it will probably make you aware of all the stuff you DON'T know, and have no chance to get into your head at such short notice, but again, it's no use mentioning this to them.

June17th, 1995

Transfiguration is over, and so is Charms, which took place today. Now at least Charms is something both of them feel very secure at, and for the first time they seem to be more relaxed. Also, there's the weekend now, and then only _Animaux fantastiques_ on Monday, and, finally, _Histoire de Magique_ on Wednesday. Both of these are not really subjects they are worried about, although they expect History to be a horrible mass of dates and battles, and other long past boring things.

"But I know a good memory enhancing spell for that," Margaux says confidently. "It helps you to remember the most absurd data rubbish for exactly three hours, and the good thing is you don't even have to understand any of it. So it will be a walk-over, really."

Like every day during these last two weeks, Harry and I said a few words to each other after dinner, but as always, he was in rather a hurry to get away. Hermione is coaching him for the Task, he says, and he needs all the time he has for practising. Of course, being only fourth year, there is a lot more he will need to learn and practise. The problem with spells and jinxes is, moreover, that you can only learn them through practice, and that means repeating the same routine over and over again. I also don't envy Hermione or Ron; they'll have to serve as objects in his training, like those sandbags Muggles use in their boxing training, and this won't be much fun, either.

June 19th, 1995

During this weekend, Margaux and Iphigenie have found some time to do some more practising with me again, for which I am grateful. They had a hard time with the more violent hexes, and so after about three hours we gave it up again.

"If you don't win this stupid tournament, Fleur Delacour," said Margaux grimly, picking herself up from the floor where my last _Repulso_ Hex had slammed her, "I'll… I don't know, but there will be hell to pay! I feel like I have no sound bone left in my entire body!"

I tried hard to hide my smile from her.

June 20th, 1995

I have decided not to use my amulet during the Task. It would be too unfair an advantage for me. But I'll try to hide this from my friends, they'd never understand.

June 21st, 1995

The last exams are over, and we had a little celebration together. Of course, the results will only be out in two or three weeks, but on the other hand, it's perhaps better to celebrate now, because you never know how much there will be left when you get the results.

June 22nd, 1995

Was woken up in the middle of the night by that stupid cat, Crookshanks galumphing across my bed screeching madly. He must be getting crazy, and it's not even full moon, or something.

June 23rd, 1995

I needn't have worried about the amulet, it's GONE! I only noticed this morning, when I was sorting through the things on my dresser. I don't even know when I last saw it, it might have been gone for days already. Of course I searched all of the room, I even tried the Finding Charm, but to no avail.

"Are you SURE it was in this room that you saw it last?" Margaux insisted, and I had to admit I couldn't even be sure of that. So it can be pretty much anywhere, and my chances to ever find it again are minimal.

"Can it have been STOLEN, do you think?" Iphigenie suggested.

"I don't know, really. Who would do such a thing?"

"Well, I imagine there'd be loads of people that would be interested in a thing like that," she said, quite sarcastically. "The question is, who knows about it?"

"Hardly anybody," I replied slowly. "There is us, of course, and Maxime, and Harry and his friends, - and, yes, Luna, but that's about it, I believe."

"Now I hope you don't suspect us," Margaux was only half joking, "And we can exclude Maxime, too, I think…"

"No!" I interrupted angrily, seeing the direction her argument was going. "Not Harry and the others! You can't be serious!"

"So how about that Luna girl? You said yourself she is quite strange…"

I had to admit that she was.

"But I can't imagine her sneaking up into this room to steal the stone, no, impossible!"

"She might have meant it as joke, or something. You've been talking to her before, why not ask her straightforward?"

I said I'd see what I could do. In the evening, however, I found the very idea so ridiculous I did not say anything to Luna.

After dinner, Harry came up to me. He looked pale and tired, but there was also a look of determination in his eyes that I hadn't seen for some time.

"Well, tomorrow at this time we'll know the outcome," he said, offering his hand. "So good luck and everything, I guess."

"Thank you," I replied happily, and ignoring his hand, I embraced him and kissed his cheeks. It must have been quite some exhibition, and there was a surprised murmur starting among the people around us, but I did not care.

A/N: So Fleur is ready for the Third Task now. I'm afraid the next chapter will be pretty long, and so it will probably take some time to write, too. Try not to be too angry with yours truly. And, what do you think happened to Fleur's amulet???


	29. Chapter 29 The Third Task

**A/N:**** Finally, the** all-important third task is here! It has been one of the most difficult parts to write, and I hope I have not made too much of a mess of it. Please be sure to tell me if/when you notice any major blunders. Of course, now at the latest, the switch to A/U has finally taken place, so there's no need to point out that there are things happening that don't fit in with the books…

Thanks to all the wonderful reviewers out there who have been giving me valuable tips and ideas. Special thanks to my dear friend **WickerBasket** for the cute Sphinx's riddle – I've never been any good at rhyming.

**Chapter 29 – The Third Task**

June 24th, 1995

This morning, in contrast to the usual proceedings, Maxime told us to go up to the castle for breakfast.

"The champions' families have been invited to watch the final task," she said to me, "and you'll meet them after breakfast."

Now I really didn't care much about seeing my mother, but I assumed "family" included Gabrielle, too, and this was something, at least.

In the Great Hall, the excitement was almost tangible, although everybody tried to pretend it was just a normal day. Harry and the others smiled at me briefly, before they went to sit down at the Gryffindor table. Again I noticed how pale and tired he looked.

Presently, the post owls delivered their letters, and I saw Hermione's surprise as she looked at her newspaper. It was clearly something she didn't want the others to see, but Ron grabbed it, and from his expression and the way he looked at Harry, I knew it must be another of those articles by that awful Skeeter woman. It was no use trying to hide the paper from Harry, though, as the blond boy from the Slytherin table was waving his copy at him, grinning gleefully. Of course Harry noticed, and grabbed the paper in spite of Ron's resistance. I watched him carefully while he was reading. When he had finished, I could see that he was angry, and trying hard not to show it when he talked to the others. After a couple of minutes, Hermione got up from the table, and shortly after that, the Gryffindor head of house approached Harry and said a few words to him.

"Time to go in there, I guess," Cedric said to me another few minutes later, and so we rose and went over into the small chamber where we had all met at the very beginning of the tournament, which suddenly seemed ages ago.

The small room was pretty crowded, and it took me a moment or two to survey all the people there. Cedric's parents were just next to the door, and he was immediately captured in his mother's embrace, while his father somewhat awkwardly patted his shoulder. In front of the fireplace, there were two red-haired people, a middle-aged woman and a young man, very obviously relatives of Ron's, which surprised me as Ron was definitely not a champion. (Even now, after I have got to know him better, the idea of him being champion seems ridiculous!) Over in the corner, Viktor Krum was standing with his parents, their postures somewhat cool and distant, especially as compared to Cedric's family. And over on the other side of the room, there was my mother, with Gabie holding on to her hand (or, perhaps, the other way round).

I went over to them, and first bent down to Gabie to hug her tightly. It felt so absolutely wonderful to really hold her again after all these months, and I wished I'd never have to let her go. But _maman's_ cool voice put a stop to it soon.

_"Bon jour, Fleur_," she said quietly, and I felt the fleeting touch of her lips on my cheek for a moment. "I hope I find you well. And well prepared, too."

_"Naturellement, maman,_" I replied, trying hard to keep my tone as neutral as possible. "My friends have been helping me a lot with all sorts of hexes and counter-curses…"

Suddenly, Gabrielle was jumping eagerly, and waved. I followed her gaze and saw that Harry had walked into the room. He waved back at her. When he saw the two Weasleys, his face, that had been listless and dejected, lit up, and he went over to them, smiling broadly.

"This is Harry Potter, _maman_," Gabrielle said happily, pulling at mother's hand and pointing. "He pulled me out of the lake, you know." I had the impression she was being deliberately childish, and when she grinned at me secretly, I was sure.

"Harry Potter?" There was quite an unusual note of interest in mother's voice. "Have you come to know him better?" She looked at me directly.

"Oh, you know," I started, hoping desperately I wasn't blushing, "we have been talking now and then, nothing important, I don't think this can be called knowing him…"

I checked myself. The last thing I want is my mother to know about my feelings for Harry. "We are competitors, after all," I finished, a bit lamely.

"Well, as long as you win, it doesn't matter, I expect. I AM a bit disappointed in you, of course; was there really no way you could end up better than you did?"

I didn't care to answer, just like her again, to come up with something like that. Any other mother would have been encouraging, but not her, no!

To hide my anger and disappointment, I looked over to where Harry was standing with the two Weasleys. The woman, obviously Ron's mother, was fussing over Harry, who seemed to enjoy it very much. The way she was treating him must have been the closest to the mother that he has never known. The young man, probably Ron's brother, was dressed in a rather flashy way, too much of a show-off for my taste, in tight fitting leather clothing under his robes, his red hair tied back in a pigtail, and earrings of what looked like dragon's fangs or something. Harry was looking more relaxed than I had seen him for a long time, and I felt happy for him, although a bit jealous, too. I mean, she isn't even his real mother… Presently, they moved over towards the door, exchanged a few words with Cedric and his family, - I noticed Cedric was annoyed with something his father said to Harry, - and left the room.

"… your moonstone," mother was saying. I hadn't been listening.

_"Excusez-moi?_" I stammered.

"I was saying you shouldn't forget to take your moonstone along," she repeated impatiently. "It has certain qualities that might assist you in your task."

"It has?" I was very surprised hearing that.

"Such as guiding you to your aim in the maze," she told me shortly. "It will glow brightly when you are heading in the right direction."

"But-" I began, but checked myself. She would never understand that it was not my idea of fairness to use such a thing.

"What?" she said sharply.

"Nothing," I answered lamely, "I mean, why did you never tell me?"

She didn't bother to answer.

"Why don't you go for some last minute practising?" she said after an uncomfortable (for me, not for her, I'm sure) pause. "There are a few people I need to talk to. You can stay with Fleur, Gabrielle."

With these words, she strode out of the room, not giving us another glance.

"Well, I guess we can leave, too," I said to Gabie. "Is there anything you'd like to do?"

"I'd love to meet Harry," she said promptly, "but I expect he will be busy preparing. So how about going back to the carriage?" She paused shortly. "Don't be too upset, Fleur, please, you know how she is, don't you?"

"You're right, as always," I said hoarsely, blinking back my tears and drawing her towards me. "Let's get out of here."

I didn't do any 'last minute practising', if only so as not to obey my mother's orders, so we walked alongside the lake some time, and then had our lunch in the carriage, carefully avoiding talking about the impending task.

"I think you should take the moonstone along, you know," Gabie told me after the meal. "She might even want you to show it to her before you go into the maze, see? You don't have to use it, of course," she added seeing my expression. "But it would be a wise thing to do."

Again I had to agree with her. There can't be any harm in taking it with me; I'll just wear it under my robes and forget about it.

It's seven o'clock now, and we are to go up to the feast in the Great Hall. Afterwards we'll start the Task. So I'd better finish this entry; I'll be back as soon as possible after everything is over.

June 25th, 1995

10 a.m. - I guess it's alright for me to write this. Fleur is still unconscious in the infirmary, and she said to me to make the entries for her if … Did she guess something would happen to her? Oh I do hope she'll be all right soon!

But I think she'd expect me to record what happened as carefully as I can. I am not so good with this memory quill, I'm sorry. So I won't be able to tell everything so beautifully as she always does. But well, the facts are these:

Dinner was great, and I loved it a lot; after that, just as the sun was going down, we all went down to the maze. _Maman_ and I took seats in the stands around it, and Fleur and the other champions went over to the entrance. There were some speeches, but I could not understand what was said. One after the other they disappeared in the maze. It looked dark and dangerous, and I couldn't help feeling frightened.

Time went by. I could not see much, only some dim lights moving through the hedges. I was starting to feel bored, and the air was getting cold too. "Stupid!" I remember thinking. "What are we doing here? There is nothing to be seen, anyway!"

Suddenly, there was a scream.

"_Maman_! It's Fleur!" I shouted, pulling her at hand.

But she was not irritated in the least. "She will manage," she said calmly.

The next minutes, there were various flashes of light, I think they were spells and curses, but I could not see anything at all. After a while, a shower of red sparks appeared. Two wizards entered the maze and came out a bit later carrying a person between them. He was obviously unconscious.

"It's Krum!" I heard people gasp around me, as he was carried off towards the castle.

Then nothing at all happened for a very long time. I don't think I was the only one to get impatient. A low murmur that kept getting louder and louder was running through the crowd.

I was cold and tired, and I believe I dozed off a bit, too.

A loud bang and a blinding flash woke me. A deafening shout from the crowd followed, and everybody started to rush forward. Of course I could not see anything in the middle of all those people who were rushing madly down towards the entrance of the maze.

This is why I can only write what _maman_told me later. It seems that Harry suddenly appeared at the edge of the maze out of thin air, only half conscious, clutching the Trophy, and – I still cannot believe it – Cedric's BODY!

Yes, Cedric is DEAD!

Nobody seems to know what happened inside the maze, as Harry was taken to the infirmary at once, where I think he still is.

And Fleur? Nobody thought of her, I believe, everybody was so shocked about what had happened. It must have been at least half an hour later that two wizards went into the maze to look for her, and presently they returned carrying her limp body between them.

The first thing I remember clearly again is the panic rushing through me. "Fleur!" I screamed and rushed over to her. "_Est-elle_…" I could not finish. I was choking with tears.

"She'll be ok," the huge gamekeeper said with a pitying glance. (Or I think this is what he said, I guessed it from the tone of his voice.) Then she was also carried up to the castle.

I turned to Mother.

"What happened?"

It was so dark I could not see her expression.

"I don't know. But she must have made some mistakes. And she has not won." Her voice was cool and calm as always. You wouldn't have guessed that her eldest daughter had just been carried off lifeless. Oh I hate her sometimes! Why can't she…?

Pull yourself together, Gabrielle Delacour! Fleur would not want me to become all hysterical. I know my mother, don't I?

"There is nothing you or I can do," she went on. "They will do everything that is necessary for her, and she will wake up in due course. It is late, and you should go to bed."

So she took me to the chambers that we had been given in the castle and put me to bed. But I could not sleep for a long time.

In the morning, we were allowed to see her in the infirmary. She looks very pale, but she is breathing deeply and regularly.

_Maman_ spoke to the nurse and then told me what she had said. They have no idea what happened to her. It may have been a Stunning spell, but this does not explain why she is still unconscious after more than twelve hours. Mother does not seem to be worried though. In fact, she wants to go back home tomorrow at the latest. Oh I do hope Fleur wakes up so I can talk to her before that!

Harry has been taken to a separate room, and only special people can go to see him.

Wherever I look, I see people whispering and I hear his name all the time. If I could only understand English! But I have not the slightest idea what they are saying.

"It's only stupid gossip," _maman_ says impatiently when I ask her. "They don't know anything, so they are inventing the most absurd ideas. An unfortunate accident, nothing more, and nothing less."

At least I have been allowed to stay by her bed; while I am writing this, I keep watching her silent form under the blankets, waiting, hoping for her to wake up soon. What if… no, I can't bear to even think of it…

5 p.m. – I've never seen writing my diary as a horrible burden, but now I do. What would I give to go back in time and reverse all the horrible things that I had to witness, perhaps even am responsible for! Still, as Gabie so very sensibly points out, it is something like an obligation – to Cedric's memory, if nothing else…

When I woke, I had a hard time realising where I was and what was the matter. The first thing I really felt was Gabie throwing herself at me, sobbing desperately, her small body shaking violently. How I wish I could have remained in that daze for longer! But all too soon everything came back to me…

I didn't listen to the silly speech that the ministry official was holding again, I just heard all our names, as if through a thick curtain. Standing at the entrance assigned to me, I watched the three others disappear into the maze, one after the other, at the sound of the whistle. Harry, pale and tense, still gave me a smile before he entered, together with Cedric, who waved encouragingly at Cho, whose face was a pale blur in the stands. Then it was Krum's turn, and he slouched off in his usual manner, as if he was going to watch an extremely boring show or something. Finally, it was my turn.

If it had been dark outside, it was pitch black inside the maze. The high hedges cast shadows that I couldn't think were natural, and the stars from the night sky were the only sources of light. The noise of the audience disappeared immediately, and I had never felt so completely isolated before.

I lit my wand and advanced slowly and cautiously. After a few twists and turns of the path, I rounded a corner and stopped dead. A short distance away, there were – of all the unexpected things, - two persons standing in the middle of the path, in a tight embrace, kissing passionately. I took me a couple of seconds to recognise them: Harry and Hermione, snogging, as if there was no tomorrow! I couldn't understand it; what was she doing in here? She was supposed to be outside among the spectators! How had she come in and found Harry? And, weirdest of all, why was she not assisting him with the task, but, on the contrary, distracting him? The way they were going, there was no chance he would ever find the Cup within the next century or two!

That's when it clicked. If I knew anything about Hermione at all, it was that she would never act like this in such a situation. I felt a huge lump fall from my mind, as I realised what this must be, - a boggart!

"Riddikulus!" I shouted, and laughed happily as I watched Harry's glasses getting entangled in Hermione's bushy hair and flying off into the darkness. There was a crack, and a wisp of smoke, and the image was gone.

Greatly relieved and in high spirits I went on. If this was all they could come up with, I remember thinking, it would be ridiculously simple.

The next few minutes there was nothing, just a few dead ends, and I was just beginning to consider using the moonstone for directions, when I turned another corner, and there was a SERIOUS obstacle, at last – a sphinx!

Now, sphinxes are not uncommon in Egypt, but to bring one over to Scotland just for one task in the Tournament was quite extraordinary, and I silently revised my flippant earlier comment. In a way sphinxes are quite harmless, of course, if you just walk back the way you've come, you're perfectly fine, however, if you need to get past them, they are extremely dangerous, and the only way is to solve the riddle they will set you. There is no spell of any kind that can help you against a sphinx. Of course I knew all this from books only, as I had never seen a real one before.

She looked beautiful to me: Her lion's body was covered in sleek and smooth golden fur, and her long tail was draped elegantly over her front paws. Yet, there was no mistaking the sharp pointed claws extending from those paws. Surprisingly, her head was not oriental, as I would have expected; though of a deep tan, her features were European, and her eyes, as I could see when I approached her cautiously, were a deep blue. Perhaps the most surprising thing, however, was her long mane of fair hair, the colour of a cornfield in sunlight. Somehow her features seemed strangely familiar.

She looked at me with interest, but without any visible emotion, not aggressively, but not friendly either.

"You are very near your goal," she said, and her voice, too, sounded familiar. "You know my rules: Answer my riddle, and I'll let you pass; remain silent, and you can walk back, unharmed; but answer wrongly, and I will – must – attack."

"No harm in hearing the riddle, I suppose."

"Of course. This is it:

_Joy of the world,_

_ But sad in his heart;_

_ Saviour of all_

_ Destroys the Dark Art;_

_ Enduring though weary,_

_ Hard face, never teary,_

_ Forever forced to take part."_

My jaw dropped.

"Can you repeat it?"

She did, and I listened with bated breath.

"Sad in his heart… so it's a person… a male person… joy…" I looked at her hesitantly. Did I see a smile playing round her lips? "Saviour, and destroys… forced to take part?"

And then it hit me like a flash. I knew that hard face, although I had seen it teary, too.

"Harry!" I shouted, "Harry Potter!"

The sphinx smiled at me openly now, and I was absolutely sure I had seen her face before, though I didn't have the vaguest idea where.

"Well done," she said with a catlike purr in her voice. "You may pass." She rose, stretched her elegant body and stood aside.

"Thank you," I said, somewhat mystified at the choice of riddle. The boggart could be explained easily, these creatures sense our deepest fears better than we ourselves do, but how did the sphinx, or whoever had chosen the riddle for her, know about my feelings?

But I had no time to muse on these questions. I rounded another bend and froze. What was easily the ugliest creature I had ever seen was in front of me: Most similar, if to anything, to a huge scorpion, at least four metres long, but with larger pincers, a long curved tail raised above its back, with a cruel looking sting at the end. At the moment I turned round the corner, it was with its back to me, apparently threatening something, - someone! – in front of it. At the same instant, I heard a shout of "Impedimenta!", and a jet of blue light flashed at it from the unseen person, but glanced off harmlessly from the beast's thick armour.

Harry's voice! Without thinking, I pointed my wand at the back of the creature's raised tail, which seemed to be softer than the other parts of its body.

"Stupefy!"

It was not the cleverest of ideas. The spell only irritated the beast, and made it mad. True, it stopped attacking Harry, which was what I had intended. But what I had not intended was that it turned on me with a speed surprising for an animal its size and anatomy, sting raised high, and pincers clicking furiously.

For a moment, I almost panicked, and I hurled the first spell at it that came to my mind.

"Expelliarmus!"

Of course it was idiotic, and had no effect whatsoever, except perhaps that the creature slowed down a tiny bit. Then like a vision, I remembered the werewolf in the forest. It was worth a try.

"Wingardium leviosa!"

And against all odds, the spell hit home, and the ugly monster was lifted off the ground, perhaps half a metre high.

"Stupefy!"

With his unbelievable Quidditch reflexes, Harry had grasped the opportunity and the spell hit the creature's soft unarmoured underbelly full force, just as the power of the lifting spell began to wane. The beast went limp in an instant, and a moment later came crashing down to the ground in a heap.

"Fleur! Are you all right?"

Harry was by my side in an instant.

"Yes," I said breathlessly. "What on earth is that?"

"Oh, that's one of Hagrid's pets, you know."

"Hagrid?" I smiled weakly. "I might have known. – Thanks for saving my neck, anyway!"

"Don't mention it. You've saved mine a minute before, see? So we're even, I guess."

There was a pause.

"How do we go on with this?" I asked finally.

"Hm, I suppose there can't be any harm in getting away from our friend here. You never know how long a spell lasts on these things."

"Yes; but – we can't go on together, can we? We are opponents!"

"I guess you are right. Looks a bit stupid to me, but – well, how about you turning right here, and me left? Oh, have you seen the others, by the way?"

"No, nor heard anything, either. So, see you, Harry."

And I took the turning he had indicated and lost sight of him at once.

Everything was completely silent again as I walked on. And I was completely unprepared, when a wave of unbearable pain hit me in the back and had me collapsing on the ground, writhing convulsively. The sound of "Crucio!" seemed to hit my ears ages after the pain.

Now, thankfully, I've never before experienced the Cruciatus curse, only learned the theory about it, but one thing is obvious, nevertheless: My reaction was very different from "normal".

I don't know how to express it, but perhaps it's easiest to say that I seemed to leave my body. Not in the way that is mentioned frequently, like looking down on myself from above, and watching all the things happening around my body, no, it was completely different, and I still don't understand what happened.

The thing is, everything went black, and the pain stopped abruptly. And some time later, - it seemed like a short moment, but it may have been hours, I have absolutely no idea, - I was somewhere else altogether, and, - this is the one thing that makes me wonder if it all might have been a dream or a hallucination, after all, - I was a bird, a white owl, from what I could see of my body, and I was flying over a strange dark place.

Perfectly adapted to darkness, as my owl's eyes were, I could soon see the location below me. A cemetery, gravestones scattered across a field of green grass. The place seemed to have been out of use for some time, the grass was long and untended, and several of the stones were not upright any more. In the light of the moon I saw two figures crouching next to one of the stones, and my heart missed a beat, - Harry and Cedric!

They were obviously equally surprised, without any idea what this place was. Just as I wanted to fly down towards them, I saw a hooded figure in black robes approaching them. Something told me that this person was a danger, but I found myself quite helpless to do anything. Watching with rising dread, I saw the dark figure raise a wand. Frustrated with my helplessness I let out a piercing owl's screech, which was the only thing I could do.

At exactly the same second, there was a blinding flash of green light down there, I heard a gasp of horror, and a moment later I saw that one of the two boys was lying motionless on his back, arms and legs spread wide, unconscious or –

"Harry!" My scream came out as another screech, but then I noticed Harry was on his knees, staring down at Cedric – Cedric's BODY. It was only now that I began breathing again.

In an instant, the hooded figure had seized him, dragged him roughly to his feet and pulled him towards a marble tombstone to which he tied him with ropes he conjured from his wand. Finally, he stuffed some piece of cloth into Harry's mouth, so he was completely helpless.

I seriously considered flying at the face of Harry's capturer with beak and talons, but what was left of my reason told me it would be no use. All I could do was watch, and hope for an opportunity to help.

After he had tied Harry to the stone, the hooded man proceeded to drag a large object towards the grave, which I realised was a gigantic stone cauldron. In the meantime, a large evil-looking snake had appeared out of nowhere, and was now coiled at Harry's feet on the grave, now and then hissing nastily.

Presently, the man made a fire under the cauldron, and soon whatever was in it began to send out fiery sparks.

"Hurry!" I could hear a high freezing cold voice that made me shiver inside; it seemed to come from what looked like a black bundle of rags that was lying next to the snake at the foot of the grave.

"It's ready, master!" The man said, pulling open the cloth of the bundle. I still wish owls' eyes were not so sharp, but even from my height of some fifty metres I could see the _thing_ all too clearly. It's impossible either to describe what it looked like, nor the abysmal revulsion I felt looking at it. A festering maggot with thin arms like sticks and a baby's head, but with lidless red eyes is perhaps the closest I can get in my description.

The man immersed the creature in the boiling cauldron, which gave an angry hiss.

Revolted though fascinated I kept watching. I had a feeling what was going to happen was magic of the darkest and most evil kind.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given," I heard the man chant, "you will renew your son!"

A small cloud of dust, which seemed to come _out of_ the grave, rose and fell softly into the cauldron, which again hissed violently, sparks rising into the air.

Now he stood next to the cauldron, his right hand outstretched over the boiling surface. In his left hand I could se a glinting dagger.

"Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master!"

There was a scream, as with a swift movement of the dagger, he cut off his hand, which fell into the cauldron, turning the liquid blood red.

Sick with disgust, I could not have averted my eyes, nevertheless. The man now, obviously in great pain, stumbled over to Harry, his dagger at the ready.

For a second I thought he was going to stab him, and prepared to dive down in a desperate attempt to stop him, but then I heard him chant again, though greatly hampered with gasps of agony.

"Blood of the enemy, forcefully taken, you will resurrect your foe!"

From the way he took hold of Harry's arm, I saw that there was no immediate danger for Harry to be killed, and indeed the man clumsily took out a glass vial from his robes and filled it with Harry's blood, which he took back to the cauldron and poured it in.

For a minute or two the cauldron went on sparkling, but then a dense cloud of smoke arose from it, extinguishing everything around the cauldron. But when the smoke cleared, there was no mistaking the tall outline of a man rising from the cauldron.

"Robe me." I heard the cold voice again, and the man, still nursing his bleeding arm stump (he must have used some charm on it, otherwise he would have fainted with his injury long ago), pulled some robes over the spectre's head. At this occasion, the man's face was clearly lit for the first time, and I felt a cold fear rush through my body: It was the stranger whom I had seen talking to my mother in the garden pavilion!

But at last the figure, now wearing the robes, stepped out of the cauldron, and the whisps of smoke cleared enough for me to see it clearly. And the shock I felt now was the greatest I've ever experienced: There are never any pictures of _Vous-savez-qui_ in any of the books, but I knew beyond any doubt who this was: Harry's deadliest enemy had regained human form at last!

Blinded with shock and disgust as I was, my memory is not very clear of the following minutes. So it was only vaguely that I noticed a group of masked, black-robed figures apparate, obviously supporters of the Dark Lord, returned to his aid. He talked to them at length, and he was angry with some of them and put the Cruciatus curse on them; and I believe I saw him replace his first servant's lost hand with one of silver. I'm not sure, though, because I was too concentrated watching Harry, who had remained tied to the tombstone all the time, barely able to move his head.

My attention was aroused however, when I heard the Dark Lord say,

"Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand."

(The name did not mean anything to me at the moment, but now that I'm writing this, I remember that this is the name of the traitor who betrayed Harry's parents.)

He went over to the stone, and cut Harry's bonds. While Harry was struggling to get to his feet, Wormtail went over to Cedric's lifeless body, picked up Harry's wand, and returned to him.

The _Mange-morts_ in the meantime had formed a close circle round Harry and his enemy, and it dawned upon me what this was supposed to become. _Vous-asvez-qui_, the most feared dark wizard of the era, was vain enough to show off his power against a fourteen-year-old boy, who had barely mastered the basics of magical arts. He wanted to impress his followers, and demonstrate that he could defeat the one who had thwarted him three times before!

I watched on, as the dark wizard went through the duelling preliminaries in a mock-serious way, his bow to Harry a parody of politeness. When I saw Harry bow, I was surprised, but then I realised that he was forced into it by a spell; he would never have given in otherwise.

"And now we duel," I heard the cold voice say softly. And then Harry was writhing on the ground, hit fully by the Cruciatus curse.

That was more than I could bear, and, instinctively, unable to think clearly any more, with the loudest owl screeches I could utter, I dived down, talons outstretched, right into that skull-like, red-eyed face.

. It was crazy, of course, and the curse hit me squarely, immediately when I was near enough, so I don't know if I ever reached my aim, but I desperately hope I did at least put a mark on that hateful visage. Again, an overwhelming pain burned through every fibre in my body and everything went completely black.

Now I'm awake again, and Gabie tells me I've been unconscious foursome twenty hours, and that Cedric is indeed dead.

"But they say Harry is alive!" She said in answer to the question I didn't dare to ask.

He is over there in the next ward, and nobody is allowed to see him. But I'll see if I can't sneak over later in the evening.

"And – _maman_?" I asked, and I hear my voice tremble as I thought of Wormtail talking to her.

"Oh, you know what she's like," Gabie answered, trying to put a light tone in her voice, but not entirely successfully. "Accidents will happen. And she's disappointed you've not won. And we are to go home tomorrow morning, too. Says there is nothing she can do here, and doesn't want to waste her time."

"Like looking after her daughter, who's almost been killed," I muttered bitterly. Gabie gave me a warm hug, but didn't say anything.

Presently, mother entered.

"I see you are not hurt or anything," she remarked coolly, seeing me sit upright in a chair next to my bed. "I told you there was nothing serious the matter with her," she said to Gabie. "So there is no sensible reason why we should not return back home tonight. There are things to do that cannot be put off…"

With these words she bent down to plant a cold kiss on my forehead that made me shiver involuntarily. "_Au revoir_," she said, "you will return in a week's time anyway." Then she took my sister's hand and pulled her from the room. The look on Gabie's face made my heart still heavier.

It's 8 o'clock now, and the nurse has brought me some food as well as some potion to "make me feel right as rain", as she put it. She wouldn't tell me how Harry is, though. So I think I'll wait for another hour or two, and then see if I can get to his ward and see for myself.

Midnight. I've just returned from Harry's room. Although I am absolutely exhausted, I must still write this down before going to sleep.

The lights had been dimmed, and the general coming and going had finally stopped. To be on the safe side, I waited for another half hour before I out of my bed and as silently as possible crept over to the door behind which I knew Harry was. I paused shortly to listen, but everything was quiet inside, so I slowly opened the door and entered the small dimly lit chamber noiselessly.

Not noiselessly enough.

"Who's there?" His voice was a hissed whisper. Before I had even adjusted my eyes to the low light, he was already sitting up in his bed, his wand pointing straight at me.

"It's me, Fleur! Sorry if I frightened you…"

"Oh," the relief in his voice was obvious, his posture relaxed and he put his wand away. "You can't be too careful, you know. But, - what are you doing here? Did you get hurt? Did that Skrewt get you after all? You've heard about Cedric, haven't you? And did they tell you about – about Voldemort?"

"Oh, Harry," I said suppressing the sobs that were choking me, "They haven't TOLD me anything, but they didn't have to; I know, because – I was THERE!"

He sat up straight, and his green eyes looked at me with a strange fire.

"You've been WHAT?"

"I've been there, Harry; I've seen everything! His resurrection, and –"

"How do you mean? Have you been dreaming or something?"

"I don't really know myself; but I saw everything! Tell me, do you remember – an owl?"

"An owl? Yes, indeed, now that you mention it… There was an owl's screech when – when Cedric was – "

"Killed."

"Yes. I still find it impossible to believe… And then-"

"When he put the Cruciatus curse on you-"

"A white owl flew straight at his face… How do you know??"

"Because I WASN'T dreaming, now I'm sure of it. Because I was that owl!"

"You? Why did you never tell me you are an Animagus?"

"Because I didn't know! It's hard to believe, but by Morgaine's veil, it's true! I never knew I could do it. And to be exact, I didn't DO anything, it just happened. You see, someone hit me with the Cruciatus down in the maze…"

His jaws clenched.

"Who did it?" he demanded, his voice angry. "I thought he was only after me, but you too?"

"I have no idea, I didn't see them. It was a male voice I seem to remember. Now it can't have been Cedric-"

"Krum! The only explanation! I always thought he was no good… But go on."

"So I was hit by the curse and I remember collapsing on the ground. But then the pain was gone, everything went black, and the next thing I could see was that cemetery; and you and – Cedric. And then the cauldron, and everything… Oh Harry, how I wish it had been a dream!"

I sat down on the side of his bed and put my face in my hands.

"Shh, it's all right," he said softly, putting an arm round me and stroking my hair. I let myself melt willingly against his shoulder.

"No, it's not all right," I said at last, pulling away from him with an effort. "Cedric is dead, and Vous-"

"Voldemort," he corrected gently.

"He is back in his body, and my mother doesn't even care what happened to me…"

"But you saved my life." His voice was calm and matter-of-fact. "That owl, - YOU – distracted him for just the short second that I needed to get my defences up. I still find it hard to believe you were that owl. And – the way he cursed it – you – how come you are still alive?"

"I don't know any more than you do. But they tell me I was unconscious for more than twelve hours. Tell me, what happened after my foolish attack?"

"Not foolish, Fleur," he said softly. "Trying to help your friends is never foolish. – Well, after the owl – after you had disappeared in a flash of blue light, he was tired of playing and hurled the Avada at me. Don't ask me why and how it happened, but at exactly the same moment I replied with the Expelliarmus – the only useful one I know, to be honest. And somehow our spells met in midair, forging a connection between our wands. And then, - it's so completely fantastic, - out of his wand there came the ghosts of all the people he killed…

"Cedric," I whispered.

"Yes, and – my mum and dad!"

"Oh Harry!" And now it was my turn to comfort him.

"They helped me to get away," he stated flatly after a minute or two. "Told me what to do… So my parents saved my life a second time…"

I could not say anything, so I just held him close, feeling him shake in my arms.

"It was Moody!" he said after another pause.

"What?"

"Moody. You've seen him around, haven't you?"

"What's he got to do with it?"

"He was Voldemort's faithful servant. Not the real Moody, of course, a Death Eater, he changed himself into Moody with Polyjuice, see? Anyway, when I came back, he tried to kill me, and Dumbledore was just in time to stop him. And then they brought me here…"

I still don't understand everything, but I thought it wise not to ask any questions.

"But you are alive, that's- " I didn't finish. We sat there silently, in each other's arms, for some minutes until I noticed him relax somewhat.

"Well, I think I'd better be going" I said finally. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

He gave me a sad smile.

"I guess so; good night, Fleur."

Yes, good night, diary. I wonder if I will ever understand it all…

A/N: So there will probably be two more chapters until the end of this fic. But I won't pick up all the loose ends right now, there must be some mysteries left for the next year. I'm still trying to work out an intelligent way to get Fleur to Hogwarts, so if some of you have that brilliant idea that keeps eluding me, let me have it! I don't have any patience with the stupid foreign exchange student programme stuff, though!

As to my story A witch in the family, I'm somewhat stuck with it. I need to know more about primary schools in England to work on it, so if there is some expert on this sort of thing among you, you might tell me about it.


	30. Chapter 30 The Aftermath

**A/N: The next chapter, and only one more to go, hooray!** When I started this, I never expected I'd get all those lovely reviews; they have been my main motivation to carry on, even if it was a bit tough sometimes. Than you all for the interesting tips how to get Fleur to Hogwarts, they have been very valuable, but I'm telling you which I'm going to use.

Somepeople seem to be confused about the Scotland/England business, so, for your information: There is the (Great Britain), which consists of England, Wales and Scotland. And everything indicates Hogwarts must be somewhere in the north, the countryside is typical of Scotland. Like Salem is in Massachusetts, which is part of the US, so Hogwarts is in Scotland, which is part of (Great) Britain.

Well, in this chapter a long awaited step in our heroes' relationship finally happens, hope you enjoy!

And one more thing: Constructive criticism is not only welcome, it's essential for good writing. So don't hesitate if there is something you think could have been done better!

**Chapter 30 - The Aftermath**

June 26th, 1995

In the morning, I was allowed to leave the infirmary. I haven't seen Harry since our midnight talk, it seems they are going to keep him under observation for some more time.

Margaux and Iphigenie came to take me down to the carriage, and I was grateful to talk to someone who had not been involved in all the awful events. I hesitated for a moment, but then I told them exactly what had happened and what I had witnessed in the cemetery.

As I had expected, they found it hard to believe.

"And you are sure you haven't been dreaming?" Iphigenie asked, her eyes wide. "I mean, I can believe the thing about the Sphinx, and I can imagine that blackguard Krum hitting you with the curse, and that you blacked out, and everything, but-"

"Harry says he experienced the same things that I watched, they HAPPENED to him! How can you explain that with your dream theory?"

I must have sounded impatient, because she said at once:

"Sorry, you're right of course, it just seems so - so -"

"Bizarre," Margaux said, "and frightening. So I think we'd prefer it to be a dream, but we do believe you, of course!"

"Thanks," I said weakly. "I'd prefer that too, no kidding. But I'm afraid we'll have to face the facts... But tell me, what happened during my absence?"

"Well, nothing much, really," Margaux said hesitantly. "There was a great upheaval about Cedric's death, but every said it was just an accident, unfortunate, and deplorable, yes, but just an accident, and accidents will happen. Nobody said anything about Dark Lords, or _Mange-Morts_ and things..."

"That's why we found your story so hard to believe, see?" Iphigenie put in apologetically.

"But I'm sure Harry told them..."

"If he did," Iphigenie reasoned calmly, "they just don't believe him. Delusions under stress, and hallucinations and things... And you can be sure everybody will prefer this explanation..."

"I even heard some of the Hogwarts students say he was inventing stories," Margaux added.

"What? Why would he?"

"Craving for attention, wanting to be in the centre, and so on..."

An awful rage surged within me.

"What absolute rubbish! I - I'll go and see Dumbledore! He'll believe it when I tell him my side of the story!"

"You think he'll even hear you out? He'll have other things on his mind."

"I don't care! He'll listen to me! Damn, he might even hold Harry responsible for Cedric's death!"

But before I could rush off to the castle, Maxime entered.

"Dumbledore wants you at the castle, Fleur," she said, and the look she gave me was the strangest I had ever seen from her: worried, and fascinated at the same time. "Follow me."

So we went up to the castle, but not, as I had expected, to the headmaster's office, but to the infirmary, and into Harry's room. He was sitting at the small table, wearing his Hogwarts robes. Dumbledore was sitting opposite him, and a short, fat man in a pin-striped suit, twirling a lime green bowler hat in his hands was pacing the room. Even for British standards, he was an exceptional example of bad taste, what with his scarlet tie and pointed purple shoes. When Maxime entered, the room seemed to shrink suddenly. Harry gave me a small unhappy smile when he saw me.

"Ah, here you are, Mlle Delacroix," the short man said.

I took an instant dislike to him.

"Delacour, if you please," I corrected, using my haughtiest tone, and, for the first time, feeling sorry the Veela charm didn't work any more.

"Whatever," he said impatiently. "This boy,-" he indicated Harry with a gesture, "has been telling me an absurd cock-and-bull story about You-know-who returning. And he says you can corroborate it. And Dumbledore, - " he shot the headmaster a nasty look, "insists that I hear what you have to say. So what is your story?"

So, I told him everything I had seen and experienced, from the Cruciatus curse to my waking up in the infirmary. It was no use.

"Rubbish, as I expected. Hallucinations, illusions; no proof whatsoever."

"But-"

"Be silent, boy! The _Prophet_ is perfectly right. You should never have been allowed to enter into the Tournament in the first place. Now look what has happened-"

Anger flared up in me, and once again I found myself wishing for my grandmother's gift of transformation.

"Look here," I hissed at him, and there must have been something in my eyes that made him take a step backwards. "I have no idea who you are, and I don't care. Are you saying that Harry is a liar, or a psychopath, or-"

"My dear girl-"

"I'm not your dear girl, you pompous clown! Harry is telling the truth, and so am I! I don't know why you don't want to accept that! We've experienced exactly the same things, now try to explain that away with your theory of dreams and hallucinations!"

He looked at me uncomfortably for a moment, but soon got back his composure.

"I don't have to listen to this kind of thing. After all, what is there in the testimony of a foreigner, and an only part-human one, at that! I've heard enough, Dumbledore, and I refuse to listen to any more of this absurd story! And if you insist on accepting it, I'll have to take my own measures."

And he slammed his hat on his head and marched out of the room.

I stared after him speechlessly for a moment. It had been a long time ago indeed that I had heard that insult.

"Who was that?"

"Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic," Harry said with an apologetic grin. "Probably the biggest fool ever to be in that honourable job. I'm sorry he said those awful things to you; and, - and thanks for standing up to him for me."

I went over to him and put a hand on his shoulder but said nothing.

"I also apologise for the Minister's behaviour, Mlle Delacour," the headmaster said to me. "He is frightened, and chooses to close his eyes to the obvious. I fear his awakening will be all the more unpleasant…"

Harry was just rising from his chair, when Dumbledore held up his hand.

"There is one more thing. I haven't told the Minister, and there are only a very few people who know this, but if anybody has a right to know it's you: Cedric Diggory-"

He saw the expression on our faces, and went on with a little smile, "Everybody, or most people, I should say, think he is dead. Well, that's not exactly true. He was hit by a curse,-"

"The Avada," Harry said tonelessly.

"Yes, but Cedric is not what we commonly understand by dead. He is in a state like Petrification, only much deeper, and no known remedy seems to help, so I suppose the difference is more of a theoretical nature. And of course, nobody has an idea if his condition can ever be reversed. We believe something must have deflected the curse ever so slightly…"

"Your owl's screech!" Harry said suddenly. "It irritated Wormtail, and so his aim was not perfect…"

"It is a possibility," Dumbledore mused. "However, I don't think it will help us much. Anyway, there is hardly anything we can do at the moment, and as there is also no reason to keep Harry here any longer, you might to leave now. The weather seems to be quite fine today, and I believe you can need everything you can get to cheer up a bit. Madame,-" he turned to Maxime, "if you'd be so kind to accompany me to my office; there are a couple of things I wish to discuss with you."

As we turned to go, in an unconscious gesture Harry took hold of my hand, and I had the feeling he was clinging to it almost desperately. I returned the pressure of his fingers.

At the entrance to the infirmary, we ran into Hermione and Ron, who had obviously been waiting there for a chance to go and visit Harry.

"Harry! At last-"

Ron stopped short when he saw we were still holding hands. As if waking from a dream, Harry let go.

"We were just going to murder Pomfrey, to get in and see you," Ron continued. "But here you are, finally. Now will you tell us what's really happened?"

"Yes, the school is full of the most absurd rumours," Hermione said impatiently. "So let us have the TRUE story now!"

"What say if we grab a bite to eat while you tell us?" Ron urged.

"Honestly, Ron," Said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

"I'm afraid we are not quite in the mood for eating," Harry sounded tired and apathetic.

"But you have a right to hear the truth, of course."

And so he told them everything, and I can only imagine how he must have felt recounting the horrible story still another time. I added my own impressions, until we had finished the sad task at last.

The others were silent for rather a long time, Ron even seemed to have forgotten about eating.

"Dad always says he is a bloody idiot!" he burst out at last. "Beats me how he ever got to be Minister of Magic!"

There was nothing much to add to this statement, and we fell silent again. Finally, I returned to the carriage, where I told Margaux and Iphigenie I wanted to be alone for a bit, which they understood.

Now that I have written all this, I begin to realise all the implications and consequences of what has happened. It seems the English authorities are going to turn a blind eye on the events, and will pretend nothing out of the ordinary has happened. I cannot imagine how they will deal with Harry, who, I am sure will not keep silent about it all. They are sure to give him a hard time. And I – oh, I hate to even think of it! – I will return home to France in a week's time. I have never disliked my mother more than now, and I can't imagine living with her as if nothing had ever happened. It's definitely going to be one of the worst summers ever!

Evening

Dinner was a dismal affair. When Cho appeared, her eyes were red and puffy, and she didn't eat anything. I couldn't bear looking at her, and so I took her aside and told her what I had heard from Dumbledore.

"You're not just trying to comfort me?" she whispered, her voice choking.

"No, of course not, why would I? But it's a secret, and you should not tell anybody."

"But I must- where is he? I must see him!"

"I have no idea, but I'm sure if you ask Dumbledore, he will tell you more. But what he told Harry and me did not sound too optimistic. He may very well never wake up again…"

"No matter! I must see him! There is hope, at least… Oh, thank you so much!"

And sobbing again, she hugged me fervently.

June 27th, 1995

The day has been interminably long. I have not been in the mood for anything, and have just whiled away the hours, my mind revolving around the horrible events again and again. At dinner, Harry and I exchanged glances as if we felt guilty or something, but did not talk to each other. As far as I could see, he did not talk to Ron or Hermione either.

June 28th, 1995

Something has happened to brighten my depressive state. After I had spent most of the morning alone in our dormitory, I pulled myself together with an effort and went outside, hoping the fresh air and warm sun would do me good. When I turned the corner at the rear of the carriage, I stopped in my tracks: There, in a tight embrace, were Iphigenie and Margaux, kissing passionately, oblivious to everything around them!

Just as I was turning to creep away silently, Margaux noticed me.

"Wait!" she called out.

I stopped.

"Well, that explains a lot," I told them as they came over, blushing crimson. "Dating Hogwarts students, indeed! Really, you might have told me!"

But in spite of my state of depression I couldn't help smiling.

"We – we didn't know how you'd take it…" Iphigenie stammered.

"Thought I might be jealous of you?" I teased.

"No," Margaux saw the joke first. "But, see, well, it's not what is called 'normal', is it, so we were afraid you'd be shocked…"

"Well, I really am disgusted – that you still don't know me well enough! The thing is for you to be happy, and as long as you are, it's nobody else's business! I may not be inclined the same way, but I'm happy for you!"

They looked relieved, and we decided to go for a walk around the lake together.

"It's a blessing not having to hide this any longer," Margaux said happily, grabbing Iphigenie's hand as we walked.

June 29th, 1995

The exam results for Seventh Year have been announced, and everyone has at least passed. Iphigenie has come first with seven perfect grades, and Margaux is also happy enough with her five.

I'm still feeling somewhat numb inside, and I have not seen much of Harry, too, which doesn't improve my mood at all.

Everybody, the Beauxbatons students included, is discussing the weirdest theories, and nobody is even close to the truth. I don't really know if I should tell them my story. I'm afraid it won't do much good at all.

June 30th, 1995

At dinner, Cho came over to me. Her eyes are still red, but she seems to have calmed down a bit, nevertheless.

"Dumbledore allowed me to see him," she told me in a whisper. "But he says I must not tell anybody. He is in a secret chamber in the castle, and only Dumbledore knows how to get in. He was most kind and understanding, said how very sorry he felt for me, but there was nothing I could do to help. He said the only thing I could do for him was to continue my studies, and perhaps find some remedy to get him back. He says I owe it to him, and I'm sure he's right! I'll work extra hard and if there is something to bring him back to me, I will find it!"

Her eyes glittered through her tears as she said it.

I gave her a big hug. "I admire you, Cho," I told her.

July 1st, 1995

I don't know what to do. I feel like jumping for joy, crying buckets and banging my head against the wall, all at the same time. Perhaps writing everything down and reliving it as I go will help me to clear my mind…

I had been wandering around aimlessly most of the afternoon, and had finally sat down on the stone bench on the lakeside. I looked out at the glittering surface that was rippling slightly in the warm breeze. But try as I might, I could not follow any straight train of thoughts. I always returned in my mind to the images of Cedric, of the Dark Lord rising from the cauldron, and of Harry being hit with the Cruciatus curse. And in between flitted the face of my mother, which turned into Morgaine's and then the Sphinx's, and Cedric again… I believe I must have dozed off for a couple of minutes.

"No, it's not your fault," a familiar voice brought me back to my senses. Without my noticing, Harry had sat down next to me.

"Sh," he said when I wanted to answer, and put a finger to my lips, a gesture that sent a shiver down my back. "There was nothing you could have done," he continued seriously. "If what happened to Cedric was anybody's fault, it was mine. I shouldn't have let him touch that bloody cup together with me! Then he'd still be around! See what comes from fair play!" he added bitterly.

"Oh, I know," he went on again, before I could say anything, "how could I have known, and everything… I didn't even have an idea what was going on before… Of course I keep telling myself all that, but then, when I think of his parents…"

His voice broke and he looked down at his feet.

"Dou you know," he continued, "he might come after you next? I mean, he is sure to find out who that owl really was, and I don't think he'll just ignore it. So you are in danger, too, and you know why? Because of me!"

I am still surprised at myself, but I just could not bear it any longer. Without a conscious thought I leaned over towards him, and took his face in my hands. His eyes widened in surprise, but before he could say anything, I covered his mouth with mine, closing my eyes tightly and willing all my emotions to flow over to his tortured soul.

He recoiled in the first shock, but I held him close, and soon he began to relax slowly, and I felt him melt against my embrace.

I don't really know how to put my experience of my first real kiss with Harry Potter into words. It was not the mind-shattering firework that cheap romances are so full of, his lips were dry and a bit rough, and his face was slightly stubbly and prickly. But it was a feeling I have never ever had before, like finding something you've been looking for for ages, and, yes, in a way I think I can say time DID stop…

Eventually, I pulled away, and only now I realised what had happened, and the shock on my part set in. What if he did not feel the same way about me? What if I had frightened him off? What if I had destroyed our friendship with no chance of gaining something else in its place?

A look into his emerald eyes showed me that he was still perfectly bewildered.

"You know, Harry Potter," I said breathlessly, grasping both his hands, "I think I should have done this ages ago! And whatever happens, we are in it together, and I promise I'll stand by you!"

"Wow, I never thought-" he stammered, "I never-, I mean, - ah, to hell with it!"

And he pulled me closer to him to plant a clumsy kiss on my lips. Whatever they may say about the Veela's natural talent in kissing and the related arts, it's definitely not true for quarter Veelas. But nevertheless, although our noses banged together, it was lovely, sweet exactly because of our mutual clumsiness.

Slowly and tentatively I touched my tongue to his lips, the sensation sending another thrill down my spine. He responded and as both our tongues touched it was as if a spark flitted through my brain. I put my hand in his hair and pulled his head even closer, while his hands were moving up and down my back in slow caressing movements.

Finally, we broke the kiss, panting heavily.

"To Hell with Voldemort," I whispered, "we'll take care of the bastard!"

He grinned at me broadly.

"Do you know, I'm beginning to think we will. Do you realise you've just said his NAME?"

"Must be the effect you are having on me," I smiled back at him. "Let's see if more of this treatment improves it!"

We did, and it did.

After an unspecified time spent kissing, - it's amazing how quickly one gets accustomed to it, and how naturally it comes after just a little practice, - we leaned back, our hands locked, gazing out at the lake.

"When water and fire are married, let the Dark One beware of the Scorpion's sting," I said dreamily.

"What?"

So I had to tell him the story of my friends' hoax that so suddenly had turned mysteriously serious.

"Now I think it's clear who the Dark One is," I went on. "And the Scorpion must be me, it's my sign, but the water and fire part still beats me."

"Scorpion?" he mused. "What did we learn about those signs? Wait... yes, each of the twelve signs belongs to one of the four elements... and the Scorpion, - let me think... yes, I do believe it's a water sign..."

"I don't understand how I missed this for so long! And then your sign..."

"Leo - and - I don't believe it, Leo IS a fire sign!"

I gasped as the full implication hit me.

"So, - do we have to get married?" My tone was only half joking.

"Not that I would mind much," re replied, picking up my tone. „But it need not necessarily mean that. In old alchemical texts, 'marry' usually means unite, become blended, become one..."

"Which would be so much more than several marriages I could name..." I added.

"Thinking of your mother? Don't. You're different, - WE are different!"

To which there didn't seem any more appropriate answer than another prolonged kissing session.

The sun was already going down when we finally rose from our seat. We had completely forgotten the time, and it was well past dinner.

"Don't worry, I'll get Dobby to fix me something," he said, grinning. "Would you like to come along and grab something, too?"

"Much as I'd like to, I don't think I will. There are so many thoughts and feelings I have to sort out, so I'd just like to be alone for a bit. But how about going flying again tomorrow afternoon?"

We agreed to meet right after lunch at the quidditch pitch which in the meantime had been magically restored to its usual condition. As I watched him walk up towards the castle, I was happy to see a lightness in his step that had not been there during the last few days. Thoughtfully, I returned to the carriage.

Now, after I have written all this down, my exhilaration is gone and a feeling of dark depression has set in. It's Friday today, and I'll have to return the day after tomorrow. How will I ever manage to see him again? Fire and water marrying, indeed! What if water and fire never get the chance to meet again? He's returning to those horrible muggles, and I'll spend the summer cooped up in the old mansion, and then go to school again for one more year, a couple of thousand kilometres away.

Do I regret it? I'm not sure... but, no, after all, I don't think I do... it will hurt to have to go away, it certainly will, but at least I know there is something... something important... "WE are different", that's what he said. And I guess this is worth a good deal of the pain that it's going to cause...


	31. CHAPTER 31 Good byes

**A/N: **Friends, Romans, citizens, here now cometh the last chapter. Nothing much happens here, it just rounds off the story, but it's very sad, nevertheless. I have already a couple of interesting ideas for the sequel boiling and bubbling in my cauldron, and I hope you will all follow Harry and Fleur's further adventures with interest. I'm just debating with myself if I should keep up the diary mode, or use a more impersonal way of telling the story. What do you guys think? Also, I'm still fishing around for a nice title, _The secret Diary of Fleur Delacour aged 17 ¾ _doesn't sound so great, does it? Suggestions welcome!

Thanks once again to all those wonderful reviewers, especially **LT2000, **your ideas are very valuable to me. I see what you mean, and I'll try to go into the whole curse deflection thing some time or other. And **KarlaBob**, if you read the passage again, you'll find it's quite as you said it should be: Harry is Leo (31st July), and Fleur is Scorpio (31st Oct). I just checked it and found it correct.

**Chapter 31 – Good byes**

July 2nd, 1995

I was not sure whether I should tell Margaux and Iphigenie about my afternoon with Harry, but I needn't have worried. They realised at once that something must have happened, and they wouldn't leave me alone until I finally told them.

"Oh, Fleur, I'm so happy for you!" Margaux said at once, hugging me. "You've been waiting so long for it to happen!"

"But – what now?" the sensible Iphigenie interrupted. "I mean, I'm glad for you, too, make no mistake, but you're going back to France tomorrow, and he'll stay in England. AND you even have one whole more year of school, too! What do you expect to come of this?"

"I know," I said unhappily, fighting back my tears. "It's going to hurt awfully…"

"But, - the prophecy!" Margaux interrupted excitedly. "Water and fire – you've just said it yourself! Unless it was just rubbish, - and I can't imagine it was, - doesn't it mean you belong to each other? It did say WHEN and not IF, if I remember correctly?"

"I don't know, all I know is that I have no idea when I'll ever see him again after tomorrow… What if Voldemort gets him before we even meet again?"

They both flinched as I spoke the hateful name and looked at me in shock.

"What?" I said impatiently. "It's just a name, after all. It doesn't make him any less awful if I am too frightened to say it out loud. That's something Harry has taught me, at least!"

"Amazing," Iphigenie was clearly impressed. "If this is already an effect of your relationship, there is not telling where it might go… And I shouldn't be surprised if some chance developed to get the two of you together sooner than you think."

We spent the rest of the morning packing our things for the departure next day, and it was with a heavy heart that I stacked all my books and things into my trunk. Try as I might, I could not imagine how there was even a remote chance of me and Harry getting together any time soon.

I was still feeling rather depressed when, after lunch, I set off for the quidditch pitch with my broom. I found Harry already waiting for me, and a look at his face showed me that he had been thinking on similar lines. The smile that he gave me as a greeting was apologetic rather than happy.

Silently, we dropped out brooms at the same time and fell into a tight, embrace, desperately exploring each other's mouths and bodies with tongues and hands.

Tears were stinging in my eyes, and as we pulled apart I could see Harry's were wet, too.

Still without a word, we mounted our brooms and rushed off, up into the sunny afternoon, to forget, to taste the feeling of freedom, the freedom we knew was only an illusion.

High above the castle we came to a stop and I wiped my eyes that were now streaming with the rush of wind from the rapid ascent.

"What wouldn't I give up, if we could just remain here for ever and ever," I said sadly. "Away from everything, evil wizards, idiot ministers, horrible mothers…"

"Hateful uncles and aunts, and bullying cousins… and memories… Why don't I just let go of this broom…?"

"No!" I almost screamed at him in my shock. "How can you even think of something as horrible as that? You can't give in like this! Don't you see that Voldemort would have won, if you did that?"

"You are right," he said calmly. "And my mother would have died in vain…" He gave me a rueful smile. "And you are saying his name! I'm proud of you!"

"Moreover," I retorted, fighting the tears that were welling up inside me again, "How dare you even think of leaving ME like that? Have you forgotten that water-fire thing already?"

"I haven't, and I won't, ever, I promise. No, I'm sorry for having been so selfish. It seems we are in this together for good. – Hey, don't let's go on all melancholy like this, let's do some flying, that's what we came here for in the first place! There'll be time enough for moping all over the place when…"

He didn't finish and tore off at a mad speed, and I had to summon all the CdF's resources to keep up with him.

We soared and dived on our brooms for the best part of the afternoon, without talking much, enjoying every second together, aware that tomorrow at the same time we would be hundreds of kilometres apart.

When we finally returned to the ground, exhausted, I had at least been able to push my depressive feelings to the back of my mind. After another long kiss that was more tender and relaxed this time, we parted.

"See you at dinner!" Harry said, his cheerfulness sounding forced, as he turned to walk up to the castle.

The Great Hall was draped in black at dinner time, and the general mood was quite untypical of an end-of-year fest. I noticed Maxime sitting at the teachers' table next to Hagrid, and saw that they were talking quietly and seriously.

The hall was a lot less noisy than usual, and as Dumbledore rose from his seat a dead silence fell. His speech was long and I only recall the most important parts of it. I still find it difficult to follow a longer speech in English, especially if it is about abstract things.

"The end of another year," he began, and his tone was a lot more serious than most of the time.

He made us all stand up and raise our goblets to the memory of Cedric. (Nobody except Harry, me, and Cho seems to know about his state, apparently Cho has not talked to anybody.) Everybody, including the Slytherin table, followed his bidding.

"Cedric Diggory." The low, yet loud murmur that went through the large hall was impressive.

I looked around, and there were many tearful faces, especially at the Hufflepuff table. Cho was standing next to me, crying silently.

"I think you have the right to know exactly how he died," I heard Dumbledore continue. "Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

So he had chosen to ignore the minister and tell the truth to the whole school, fully aware that the students would carry the news to their families, even this evening the owls will be dispatched with the shocking message.

The reaction of panicked shock was evident. I glanced over towards Harry and met his earnest gaze. He nodded silently.

Ignoring the frightened murmurs, Dumbledore continued.

"There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death. I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter.

Most faces turned towards Harry of course, and I could see he hated every bit of this attention.

"… and for this I honour him," I heard. He turned to Harry, who turned scarlet red, and raised his goblet to him. Most of the people in the hall followed suit, except, as I noted with annoyance, the Slytherins. A wave of pride surged in me at this show of loyalty.

Next he said something about the Triwizard Cup, and promoting magical understand, which, he said was even more important now that Voldemort had returned.

"Every guest in this hall," he said, looking at the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students in turn, "will be welcomed back here, at any time, should they wish to come." It may have been my imagination, but I had the distinct impression he was looking at me especially, when he was saying that.

"Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust." Again my eyes locked with Harry's and we nodded at each other.

"Remember Cedric Diggory."

With these words, Dumbledore's speech ended, and an excited murmur set in almost at once. Many students seemed to find it difficult to believe Voldemort was indeed back, and I wonder what will be left of the overwhelming show of loyalty tomorrow, when they have had time to think things over. I'm afraid a lot of them will prefer the minister's way, ignoring the danger as long as they can…

After the feast, I met up with Harry again.

"I wish he hadn't said all those things about me," he said. "Some will remember Skeeter's article only too well, and see it just as further proof of my attention seeking instability, trust me."

"But don't forget, there are others who need to know what your part in the struggle is, and I'm sure they will accept it in the way it was meant. And the others… there is nothing you can or can't do to change their opinion anyway, so just ignore it. Well…"

I broke off and looked into his eyes, where I could see a swirl of emotions.

"Yeah," his voice was hoarse. "So this is it, I guess. When shall we two meet again? I haven't got a clue, really. But I promise-"

"Don't," I said softly, taking both his hands in mine. "We can just wait and see what's in store for us… Who knows, we might meet again sooner than we think…"

"That's just wishful thinking, and you know it. We both know how slim our chances are. It's so awful!" he broke out suddenly, "Just when there's something I love-"

He stopped short and looked at me with wide eyes.

"Oh Harry," I whispered, "what can I do? I'll- I'll run away, I'll hide here in the village…"

He shook his head with a sad smile.

"No, you can't, and you won't. You need to finish school, you need all the training you can get in what's to come… And they'd find you, too, and force you to go back, and probably do all sorts of nasty things to punish you… No, I won't allow it! It's – I'm not worth it!"

"There's nothing you're not worth to me," I replied quietly. But you're right of course, and I shouldn't do anything rash and stupid."

Feeling I couldn't keep back my tears any longer, I hugged him quickly, kissed his cheeks and then ran out of the Great Hall and to the carriage.

I really must get a grip on myself; it just doesn't do to keep crying my eyes out for hours. I have to calm down and think of ways to clear up the mess I'm in. I'll see what Gabie has to say, she has the most extraordinary ideas sometimes.

July 3rd, 1995

I'm writing this as our carriage is flying somewhere over France; we are due at Beauxbatons in some two hours. I don't expect my mother will be there to meet me, she'll expect me to take the train to Paris and then floo back to the mansion from there. Not that I feel too eager to see her anytime soon, anyway…

Our departure from Hogwarts was swift and businesslike, a few handshakes and some polite exchanges; I could only hug Harry very briefly, and say good-bye to Hermione and Ron, who were standing next to us, before Maxime gave orders to board the carriage. A few minutes later, we were up in the air and on our way.

When I look back on these last months, the feel like a dream to me, and I'm not sure if it's going to turn into a nightmare, or if a happy awakening is waiting for me, - no, for us. So many things have happened, and I'm hardly the same person that set out to Scotland ten months ago. Whether I should be happy or sad about this, I don't really know. But there is one thing nobody can take away from me, and my life would not be complete without it: My deep and unconditional love!

**A/N:** I know, I know, a thoroughly dissatisfying end. And I even did it on purpose! So bear with me and let's see what's going to happen! I'm just as eager to find out as you (hopefully) are! A good way to pass the time until July 16th, anyway!!!


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